Death
by x.imagine.x
Summary: 'Shaking slightly, Andy McNally knelt to the floor beside the bleeding man in uniform. His green eyes stared straight ahead. The puddle of red wasn't growing any longer. She couldn't think what that meant.' AU, written during season 1
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So this is based off something Luke says in a promo for the series, and the information I've gathered from watching an endless stream of them.**

**Disclaimer: Rookie Blue is not mine!**

* * *

**DEATH**

"You don't have to do this. Just put it down."

Steady. Keep it steady. Don't let him see how scared you are.

"Don't tell me what to do!"

Don't let him see you watching the way he's flinging that gun around everywhere. Concentrate on the officer lying on the floor, a hostage. Concentrate on getting him out of here alive.

"This isn't helping anything. If you don't let him go now, he's going to die."

So much blood… Too much blood.

"Stop it! Just stop it!"

"Look. Look at me! You have to put the gun down. I know you didn't mean to hurt him, but if you put the gun down, it might not be too late. I can help him."

"You're just saying that! I shot a cop! A fucking cop!"

"Yeah, you did. But I know it was an accident. You didn't mean it. If you put your gun down, I can help you. You didn't mean it."

"You're lying to me!"

"No. No, I'm not."

So much blood. He wasn't moving anymore. Shit.

"Yes you are!"

"How about this? Let a medic in here to help him, and you and I can talk this out. He needs medical attention."

"I- I- I can't go back to prison. I just can't."

"I know. I know you don't want to go back to prison, but if he dies, you're looking at so much more jail time. So let me help him, okay?"

"I didn't mean to… I panicked…"

"I know, so you have to let me help him."

Silence. More blood pooling on the floor. Don't look at it.

"Okay? Will you let me help him?"

Move slowly. Don't surprise him.

"That's it, put the gun down."

Quickly now. Put the handcuffs on. Give the all clear to come in.

Shaking slightly, Andy McNally knelt to the floor beside the bleeding man in uniform. His green eyes stared straight ahead. The puddle of red wasn't growing any longer. She couldn't think what that meant. She wouldn't believe it. Her body climbed down from the adrenaline high slowly as she gently pressed her fingers to the officer's neck.

Medics rushed into the house, followed by a handful of cops. Andy was shoved out of the way by someone as the knowledge she already held was announced authoritatively.

"He's gone."

Andy forced herself to stand, to walk out of the house and over to one of the five cop cars surrounding the area. She leaned against the door, her back turned as she heard the medics emerge with Officer Shaw in a body bag. She pressed her forehead against her clenched hands, fighting the tears. She wouldn't cry.

A strong, warm hand was laid shoulder. She ignored it.

"It wasn't your fault, McNally," Sam's voice was gentle and comforting, but she didn't want nor deserve comfort. It _was_ her fault. She hadn't talked him down fast enough.

She remained silent, offering no acknowledgment to the senior officer. After a moment, she felt Sam's hand squeeze her shoulder, and then her removed it and walked away.

* * *

She rode back to the precinct with Williams, and the silence was deafening. She parked the car in the garage and turned to Andy after shutting off the ignition.

"You did everything you could, kid. Sometimes it just… well… Sometimes it just isn't the outcome we want. "

Andy nodded stiffly, and climbed out of the vehicle mechanically. Williams was lying; there had to be something more she could have done. She closed her eyes, jerking them back open when she saw empty green eyes staring back at her.

Paperwork. Fill out the report and get your mind off it.

Traci came to talk to her while she filled out the report. She was grateful that her friend cared, but she didn't know how to put in to words what she was feeling. She was a cop. How did cops deal with losing their partners?

While Andy herself didn't know the answer, she knew one person who dealt with death every day.

After finishing the paperwork and dealing with Boyco, Andy headed toward the homicide division, finding the office she wanted.

She knocked softly, "Luke?"

He looked up from the photographs on his desk and smiled, "Hey, I heard what happened. Nice job, talking the guy down. Too bad about Officer Shaw."

She grimaced. This was not what she was looking for at all. "Yeah… He's… He was…" She stopped trying to articulate anything. Nothing seemed right.

"What's up?"

She took a few steps in to the room, surveying the murder board, covered in pictures.

"How do you do it?" She asked softly, "Work around death every day, and not let it affect you."

He shrugged, standing up from his chair and stretching, "I guess I'm just used to it."

For some reason, his casual manner annoyed her, "How can you get used to _death_?"

Again, he shrugged.

"How can you be so casual about this?" She demanded.

"Why shouldn't I be casual about it?" He started to sense that she wasn't happy with his answers.

"_Why shouldn't you be casual about it?_ Luke, an innocent officer –my _partner_- died tonight!"

"Yes, a police officer _did _die. But people are gonna die. That's just something you're gonna have to get used to," His voice was measured and calm, detached and cold.

She blinked back tears she hadn't known were there, "And what if I don't want to get used to it?"

He looked down momentarily, and then met her eyes, "Then maybe this isn't the job for you."

She was stunned into silence. What the hell? She'd come here, looking for support, and she was getting… well she wasn't entirely sure what it was she was getting, but she sure as hell didn't like it.

Finally, after a full two minutes of silence, she found her voice, "Then maybe _you're_ not the one for me."

He only looked slightly taken aback by her sudden pronouncement.

"No, I suppose maybe I'm not."

She sighed, tears in her eyes now for two separate reasons. "Guess I'll see you around then."

He said nothing, and she left his office in a daze. How was it that this night could get any worse?

* * *

**A/N: So I'm going to make this two chapters, because there isn't enough closure for my liking in this one, and because this feels short, but I wanted to end it here.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, the second part of this. Hope you like it.**

* * *

She stayed in the locker room long after the other officers on duty left, wringing a spare shirt between her hands and trying not to think of the events of the night, and yet lingering on every detail she could remember. Where had she gone wrong? What should she have done differently?

"Still here, McNally?"

A voice startled her out of her reverie, and she looked up to see Sam leaning against the doorframe of the women's locker room. She hadn't seen him since the moment at the car.

She said nothing, looking back down at the shirt between her fingers. She heard his footsteps draw closer and felt him sit beside her on the bench.

"I lost my first partner on my second day," Sam said quietly, studying the ground. Andy glanced up momentarily, then back down at her shirt again. "His name was Tyler Stevens. We were the first responders to a gang-related disturbance. We got there, and there was no one in sight," He paused, "We were ambushed in an abandoned warehouse. He told me to go back to the car to radio in that it was a false alarm. And then I heard the gunshots."

She didn't know what to say, so she said nothing, choosing instead to twist the shirt more firmly in her hands. She had a feeling that his words had failed him.

"Turns out they called it in themselves, just so they could 'send a message' that they didn't care who they killed," He finished, shaking his head.

Andy swallowed, "I-uh…"

He stopped her half-hearted attempt at words she didn't yet know by raising a hand.

"I spent weeks blaming myself, wondering if he would have stood a chance if I'd stayed in the building, if I'd gone in sooner, if I'd trusted my instinct that there was something wrong with the situation. None of it mattered. All I did was waste my time. There's no point in dwelling on something that's already happened."

Andy opened her mouth again, this time to protest, but Sam held up his hand once more and she fell silent again.

"I lost my second partner after my sixth month on the job. Dale Timmons got shot chasing down a suspect. We didn't think he had a gun. We were wrong.

"My third partner, Kris Duger, stayed for seven months before he got his detective badge. He was killed on the job a month later.

"I got my fourth partner after a few months of shuffling around. Eileen Hale. I was driving. We were run off the road when we were out on patrol. We flipped twice. She didn't survive."

"Sam-" Andy felt a hole opening up inside her at the pain he'd had to endure during his rookie days.

"I remember," He continued, cutting her off, still staring at the floor, "I remember opening my eyes, and trying to figure out where I was, and looking beside me and seeing her dead eyes staring back at me. We'd flipped into a tree, and it pretty much snapped her in half." He stopped, swallowing thickly with his words. She couldn't bear to look up at him, and she knew that he didn't want her to.

"After that they shuffled me around some more, until I had enough seniority to be given a younger officer.

"His name was Kyle Underthur. He'd been on the job for seven months. I was just approaching my third year. They don't normally partner two younger cops like that, but they were short and they thought they should give me another try at partnering. I didn't want to, but they insisted. He died on his first anniversary with the precinct. He was a good kid, but he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. At the last second, I decided that it would be better if he stood by the door, because I thought they would be more likely to come in through the opposite way. I was wrong.

"After that I put in a request to be transferred to do undercover work, and eventually got into the drug squad. No partners needed."

He stopped speaking, and finally brought his eyes from the floor. It was then that both he and Andy noticed that, at some point, she had reached out to grip his arm in an attempt at comforting him. Neither made any attempt to move away. Andy felt like she understood so much of what was a mystery now. The reason he didn't do partners, the reason he didn't want to train a rookie. She was his first partner in over a year, and his previous partners had died.

After a moment, Sam's gaze drifted to meet hers, and she could see the years of pain hidden in the brown depths.

"I'm- I don't know what to say," She said softly, because she hated it when people said they were sorry for things they had no control over. He'd watched five partners die. Officer Shaw hadn't been her actual partner, but for the day, he was her training officer. She'd looked up to him and respected him, and she'd watched him die when it had been her responsibility to keep him alive.

He looked away again, "Don't say anything. Nothing you could do about it."

"There was nothing you could do about it, either," She stated firmly, her grip tightening slightly with conviction.

His eyes flicked to hers once more, "Exactly."

She understood what he meant, and angrily turned to look back at the floor, pulling her hand away. He was wrong. She should have done something. She knew there was an answer in the sequence of events that would have prevented Shaw from dying. She'd made some rookie mistake and her partner had died because of it.

She didn't look up as he rose from the bench; she didn't want him to see the tears burning her eyes. "If you need someone to talk to, someone who understands, I'm here," he spoke softly.

Andy didn't reply, returning to twisting the shirt ruthlessly between her fingers, trying to work all her frustration out of her body and into that damn piece of fabric.

"Oh, McNally?"

She glanced back up to see Sam leaning back around the door frame, a glint of humour in his eyes as he looked at her. She raised her eyebrows in a 'What?' gesture.

"You might want to go easy on that shirt. What'd it ever do to you?"

And with those words, Sam swung back out the door, leaving Andy alone with her thoughts.

With a sigh of frustration, she threw the shirt to the floor. He made her feel pathetic, although she knew that hadn't been his intention. She'd gone through nothing compared to him, and yet he was up walking around, smirking and tossing out jokes like life was no big deal, while she was sitting in a locker room beating herself up. She had a reason to beat herself up, yes, but he had four more reasons to do the same thing, and he wasn't. How the hell did he do it? He was obviously still hurting from it, and yet he showed no traces of that pain in his day-to-day life. She doubted whether too many people even knew about his terrible track record; Sam Swarek wasn't exactly an open person.

That was another part of the night that further boggled her mind. Sam was very introverted with his feelings, unless they were antagonistic, yet he'd opened up to her about his past. He'd shared his pain with her in an attempt to get her to share hers with him, she realized, and she'd blown him off. Great. Now she had to add being a complete bitch to her list of wrongdoings tonight.

Andy stayed in the locker room for a little longer before finally collecting her things and heading out for the night. Boyco had told her to take tomorrow off and, even though she really didn't want to, she agreed for the sake of minimal conflict. Looking back, she was glad she'd taken the day off. She could use it to sit in her apartment all by herself and think. Maybe she could watch some really bad TV and try to forget about her sad, pathetic life. If she was lucky, she might have some hidden liquor under her sink that she could use to numb the day into a blur.

No, that was what her dad did. She wouldn't be like him. She'd face the pain and find a way to 'get over it,' as Luke would say. She wouldn't cower behind a tumbler filled with amber liquid; she was stronger than that.

* * *

**A/N: So… this'll be more than two chapters. I'm hooking myself into something big here and I'm not sure if that's a good idea. I have a tendency to not finish what I start… So I'm going to start small here, and I WILL finish this. I might not have time to update until Sunday, but I will finish this. I'm thinking that it will end between three and five chapters long. Not sure what I want to do with it yet. With that said, reviews are like oxygen to writers, so please leave a few for me! Please don't flame, constructive criticism is always the best method! And please let me know what you thought about Sam… I'm not sure how I feel about how I wrote him and what I wrote for him…**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Alright, go me! Another chapter! I'm not too sure how I feel about this just yet, because I went back and forth about what I wanted to happen. I'm still not entirely sure i like it.**

* * *

_Silence. _

_Too quiet._

_Step carefully; don't let anyone hear you._

_Shaw was around the front, he wouldn't wait for backup. There were kids inside._

_BANG! BANG!_

_Gunshots._

_Body slumped against the wall._

_Green eyes, staring at her. _

_Death._

Andy jerked up in bed, panting. It was the third time tonight she'd had that nightmare. It always ended the same. Green eyes.

Sighing, she threw the covers back and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. It was useless trying to get any sort of rest; the nightmares would just come back. She padded to the living room with her quilt wrapped around her and flicked the TV on as she dropped onto the couch. She sat and stared at the screen, not paying attention to the infomercial that crossed the screen.

Her inability to sleep only worsened her mood. What was she supposed to do? Stop sleeping? Yeah, that would go over real well. She didn't want to go see any kind of shrink or doctor, so sleeping medication was out. _I could always just get used to the nightmares,_ she thought, already rolling her eyes at the thought.

She wasn't sure why she was so upset with Luke about his reaction. True, he had been cold and a little callous about the entire thing, but she guessed she should have expected it; the man dealt with death for a living, of course he wouldn't be bothered by it anymore. That's normal, right?

_Not when you knew the guy. Not when he was one of your own._ The damn voice in her head overrode her attempts at rationalization. _Detective Barber didn't find it anything to be casual about._ Then again, Detective Barber had been closer to Officer Shaw than Luke had; so had Sam, for that matter. In all the chaos, Andy had completely forgotten that Sam had been undercover for eight months prior to her arrival at the 15th and, as a result, had been out of contact with the department. He had few officers he could call his friends, and Officer Shaw had fallen under that heading. She knew that he liked Officer Shaw and, in a fit of selfishness, had refused to admit to herself that he was grieving too. Damn, now she was a complete bitch, _and_ she was selfish. Well wasn't she just a great cop.

Maybe she should tender her resignation; it was her fault that Shaw was dead. She should have insisted they wait for backup, or at least stuck with him. She'd learned a long time ago that splitting up was never a good idea in this situation, and yet she followed his instructions when he told her to go around back. How stupid could she be?

Andy didn't know how long she sat there, but she soon realized that the sun was shining through the curtains. She rose, surprised to find herself stiff from her position. Had she moved at all?

She proceeded to the bathroom, dropping the quilt and stripping herself of all clothing before climbing under scalding hot water. She frowned as the shower sputtered, the price of cheap rent, but soon lost herself to everything but the feel of the water trickling down her body, leaving burning trails down her skin. It felt good to concentrate on nothing but the feel of it, and it was with great reluctance that she finally turned the taps off. Wrapping herself in a worn towel, she hurried into the bedroom to avoid chancing a glance at the mirror, lest she catch a glimpse of herself.

She began to dress in comfortable sweats and an oversized t-shirt, before deciding all that would accomplish would be more time spent on the couch. Instead, she put on jogging pants and a tank top, pulling her hair back in a wet ponytail and heading out.

Andy found the steady rhythm of her feet hitting the pavement to be oddly comforting. It pounded out the thoughts and left her mind blissfully clear. No gunshots, no slumped body, no still pulse, and no green eyes. But she couldn't run forever.

Without realizing it, she'd run all the way to a very familiar apartment building. Sighing, she debated about whether to go inside, ultimately deciding that she should. She'd come this far.

She rang the buzzer.

"Who is it?" Came the crackled voice over the intercom.

"It's me." Was all she managed.

The door buzzed open, and she pushed her way through, climbing the stairs slowly. She reached the door and hesitated before knocking softly. There was only a brief moment before the door opened.

"What's up, kiddo? I thought you'd be at work."

She wanted to cry right then. She wanted to let the tears pour down her cheeks, just to get all of the emotion out. She couldn't. Instead, she only stepped past him into the apartment.

"I got the day off," she said shortly, surveying the apartment for traces of alcohol. For once, she found no empty bottles lying around, at least in the near vicinity.

Her father frowned, "That's not like Boyko. Why?"

Andy toyed with how to answer that. She still didn't want to really talk about it. Besides, her father had seen plenty of fallen cops in his time, but he had never lost a partner. Would he understand?

"Um… My, uh- My partner was shot yesterday," She muttered, trying to remain calm and casual as she ran her finger along the edge of a wooden table, as though checking for dust. "He died."

She felt so cold, stating it like that. Being able to say it like that made her feel like a terrible person. Maybe she was more like Luke than she thought. She didn't want to be. She didn't want to be able to refer to death so casually.

Her father was lost for words at first, and then he cleared his throat. She didn't need to look at him to know he was trying to choose his words carefully.

"Andy, I…" He shook his head, almost angry, "I never wanted you to have to go through something like this. Although I didn't expect Swarek to-"

Andy looked up. She'd forgotten that, until very recently, Sam had been considered her partner. Usually rookies were rotated through the officers, until they found a good fit, but she and Sam had seemed to click right away. Boyko must have jumped at the opportunity to pair Sam up with someone, not wanting him to turn tail and head back to shuffling around until it was safe to go back undercover.

Over the past week however, Sam and Andy had been paired together less. Andy had gone out with Williams once, and Shaw the rest of the time. For all intents and purposes, he was her partner for a grand total of one week.

"I wasn't partnered with Sam. I was partnered with Oliver Shaw."

Her father cursed quietly, "Shaw was a good cop. Good father."

"Father?" Andy choked on the word. Shaw had kids? She'd known he was married; having children shouldn't have been such a stretch. She'd never asked him, and maybe that was what bothered her the most. She hadn't taken the initiative to get to know the man. She should have.

"Yeah, he had three kids. Oldest is thirteen, middle one's eight, and the youngest is five," her father answered, sounding mournful.

Silence engulfed the pair as Andy moved to the window she'd broken weeks ago –now brand new- and stared outside at the bright, sunlit city. It seemed impossible that, just the previous day, a man had died on those streets. Andy checked herself there, men died on these streets every day. Men, women and children died on these streets; it was part of the reason she'd become a cop. A lone tear trailed down her cheek as she stared out at the city waking up, but no more followed it, and it died alone on her face, like Officer Shaw had died alone in that building. This thought brought more tears to the brim of her eyes, but they refused to fall. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she cry? That's what normal people did, wasn't it?

After that, Andy wasn't sure what to say, and it was clear her father had no idea how to console her, if she would even allow him to try. They both knew that was a long shot. Their relationship wasn't really one in which he was the rock; that was more her role. And so they sat and talked, and avoided the subject at all costs. It was nice to talk to her father while he was sober; the opportunity to do so was such a rare one that she had to take advantage of it. She was surprised that she hadn't found any alcohol in the apartment yet.

"I'm going to kick it this time, Andy. I swear," he replied when she brought it up, his words overflowing with sincerity. "I don't have a drop in the house. Got rid of it a week ago."

She smiled, but it was only half-hearted. She couldn't bring herself to have complete faith in him this time; it had too much potential for disappointment. "That's great, Dad."

She reached out to squeeze his hand, and, for the first time since she'd heard those gunshots, gave herself over for a brief moment to pure hope. Of course, she dismissed the hope as soon as it appeared; it was too dangerous.

"I'm going to go get some water, ok?" She asked as she rose. Her father only nodded as she headed to the kitchen. She opened the fridge door, knowing that he always kept a jug with filtered water in it. It was odd, an alcoholic drinking filtered water. She tried to ignore the irony as she pushed aside a jar of mustard. And saw a brown paper bag. Her breath caught.

Ok, no need to panic. Lots of things come in brown paper bags. Like… _You got nothing_ the little annoying voice said. Maybe he just missed it on his purge. She reached for it, holding her breath as she opened the folds delicately. Her breath rushed out of her: A full bottle of whisky. Closing her eyes briefly, she concentrated on breathing and remaining calm; she couldn't jump to conclusions. Studying the bottle more closely, she spotted a white piece of paper at the bottom. She pulled it out, studying it briefly before clenching it in her fist, disgusted. She stalked back into the room, slamming the bag on the table in front of her father.

"You quit, huh?" She accused, eyes blazing.

His eyes were a mixture of sheepish, guilty, and startled, "I-I did. Honest. I wasn't gonna drink that, I musta missed it."

Her heart dropped, and any hope she dared to feel abandoned her, "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not, Andy, I swear."

"Of course. That's why the receipt for this is dated from yesterday," She said forcefully, slamming the crumpled paper beside the bottle.

He flinched, "Okay, so I had a weak moment. Everyone has their moment. I wasn't gonna drink it though."

"Forgive me if I have a hard time believing that." Her voice was ice as she snatched up the bottle and made for the door.

"Wait, Andy, where are you going?"

"Away from you," She called over her shoulder, and with that, she slammed the apartment door behind her and ran down the stairs, the whole time berating herself for having made yet another rookie mistake: trust.

* * *

By the time she got back to her apartment, it was noon. She walked the entire way at a slow pace, the bottle weighing heavily in her hand. Once inside, she set it on the table across from the couch and sat down, staring as though she could break the glass through sheer willpower.

_You're stronger than this._

_You want to make everything go away._

_No, you're stronger than this bottle._

Andy wasn't a stranger to alcohol by any means, nor did she go out of her way to avoid it. In fact, she might even say that she drank to prove to herself that she _wasn't_ her father, and control the urge to let it ruin her life. Now, however, she understood why her father did it; it was just so damned tempting.

Her stomach gurgled, but the thought of eating anything repulsed her. She hadn't been able to stomach the cereal she'd tried to eat before she left, having given it one glance and poured it down the sink. Her father had offered her lunch, but she'd refused, saying she'd eaten earlier.

After another twenty minutes of staring at the bottle, she grew frustrated and retreated to her bedroom to change back into her favourite pyjamas, intent on veg'ing out on the couch for what would probably be another few hours. She really needed to get back to work.

The afternoon passed in a blur of boredom and terrible television, and Andy was almost sure that she was brain-dead by the time the news came on.

"Finally, something worth watching," she muttered, turning up the volume and sitting up straighter.

"Sad news today, as the TPD report the death of one of their own. Oliver Shaw, shown here in this photograph, was shot and killed last night during a response to a 9-1-1 call detailing gunshots fired in a community centre. The suspect, twenty-one year old Damon Marren, was arrested at the scene. Services for Officer Shaw will be held Friday at 2PM at St. Matrin's Funeral Home. He is survived by a wife, three children, and a sister.

And in other news…"

Andy flipped off the television set angrily. Of course, the one program she pays attention to is the one she doesn't want to see.

_Bang! Bang!_

Andy jumped, startled at the noise, before realizing that it wasn't gunshots at all, it was the buzzer to her apartment. Shaking her head to clear it, she trudged to the door just in time for two more impatient buzzes.

"What?" She snapped.

"Ohh, somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed," A too-chipper voice answered.

She growled, "I'm not in the mood, Swarek."

"Too bad. Let me up."

"Or how about you go away?" She tried, irritated already, and she hadn't even seen his face.

"Not likely," He replied, his voice losing its former teasing air. She could tell he was just as wiped as she was, and her bitch-streak wasn't helping either of them. Oh well.

She walked away from the buzzer, dulling the volume so it was only a faint beep before moving back to the couch. She didn't want to deal with anyone right now.

Thankfully, the persistent buzzing stopped after about two minutes. So much for waiting until he annoyed her so much that she let him in. How did he even know where she lived?

Andy had just leaned back into the couch when she jumped at the sound of someone knocking at her door. Who the hell was that, because surely Sam had gone home.

Nope. She opened the door to reveal none other than Sam Swarek, grinning proudly as he leaned against her doorframe.

"Your security sucks," he said smugly.

* * *

**A/N: Ok, so I thought that was a good place to end it, even though there was no Sam/Andy in that chapter, except for a few of her thoughts about him and a couple lines at the end. Good news, there is guaranteed Sam/Andy interaction next chapter, since I left it with him in her doorway! I'll try to get it up ASAP! I didn't mean to go as in depth with the bit at her father's as I did, so I guess I'll just add another chapter to the plan, haha. **

**Reviews are love!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Here we go! Thank so much for all of your reviews. Back when Andy went to see Luke, she did end things with him, in a way, but that will be covered more in these next couple chapters.**

* * *

She sighed, making no move to let him in, "How did you get up here?"

He just smirked, "Well hi to you too, McNally," he replied, barely taking a breath before plowing on to the next question, "Can I come in? Thanks."

Without waiting for a reply, Sam pushed past her and in to her apartment; she barely registered the movement before she was left standing and gaping at the empty hallway. Belatedly, she closed the door and spun to face him, trying to keep her frustration at bay.

His eyes ran the length of her body. "Nice PJs," he commented lightly, turning to survey the rest of the apartment. Andy felt a slight flush spreading across her cheeks despite herself as she glanced down and remembered she was decked out in Goofy pyjama pants and a tank top, her quilt still wrapped around her; she tugged it tighter.

"You didn't answer my question. How'd you get in here?"

"Oh, that. Some woman named Gina let me in. Nice lady, blond, big chest. Seemed kind of put out when I told her I was coming to surprise you. Gullible thing, really," he answered, lifting a hand to touch a photograph of her and her father hanging on her wall, his tone still light and conversational as he moved around the room, touching pretty much everything.

She sighed again in frustration. Of course Gina would let him in. She was a sucker for anything male that was remotely attractive, and Sam was more than remotely attractive. In the jeans he was wearing now and that tight, but not too tight, black t-shirt, yeah, she would say he was downright hot. _Did you really just think that?_ The tiny voice reprimanded. It was probably just the lack of sleep.

"Can you not- Can you not touch everything?" She finally asked, frustrated to no end. God, he was like a little kid sometimes.

He pulled his hand back from the lamp shade he was currently running his finger over and turned back to look at her. "You look like shit."

"Gee, thanks," Andy snapped sarcastically.

Sam only shrugged, "I'd guess you were awake all night, right? Every time you closed your eyes, you had nightmares, and so you stayed out here watching stupid infomercials and horrible tele-priests for hours on end, while trying to figure out what you could have done differently, despite the fact that you couldn't have done anything differently. Am I right?"

Andy avoided his eyes, knowing that one look at her face would give him the answer he already knew. Her silence, however, was as effective as anything, and Sam nodded.

"I'd also guess that you haven't eaten yet today, right?"

"No, I ate. I had lunch with my father," She lied, praying that this one time, she would be able to lie.

Sam's lips twitched slightly, "You're a terrible liar, McNally."

"I'm not lying."

"Sure. Well in any case, I brought some food. Eat up," He chirped, holding up a takeout bag. When she made no move to take it from him, he proceeded into the kitchen and started unloading it onto her table; He was acting like he lived here, not her, although she guessed she was being less than hospitable, and her brain wasn't exactly keeping up with everything that was happening. She watched wordlessly as he pulled out her favourite burger, complete with curly fries –which she preferred to regular fries, something Luke hadn't bothered to find out about her- and a strawberry milkshake she hadn't noticed he was carrying. It shocked her that he remembered.

_The day was slow, and both Sam and Andy were bored. Sam turned aimlessly down streets, having run out of things to do. He'd already turned the sirens on while a little old lady was in front of the patrol car, -which could have resulted in the poor thing keeling over right there on the street-, while a biker was pedalling beside them –causing him to fall- and behind a student driver, giving the poor girl a heart attack and almost causing her to rear end a parked car. She'd probably quit driving now, all because Sam was like a little kid when he was bored._

_Turning the wheel again, they found themselves on a street that looked as though it had seen better days. After a moment, Andy realized that she knew the street rather well; she and her parents used to come here all the time when she was little. Their trips had trickled to a stop after her mother left, and Andy hadn't seen the place since. It was home to Andre's Burger House, a place that only the local neighbourhood residents really knew about. Her father had been raised in this neighbourhood, and that was the only reason she heard of it. _

"_Wow, looks like that place has seen better days," Sam commented, indicating the now worn down brick building. It used to be brightly painted and booming with business. Now, Andre's Burger House was in desperate need of a paint job, and its bricks in desperate need of repair. However, it seemed to be doing alright; it was still attracting the residents._

"_Yeah," she nodded, memories flooding back to her suddenly, "It has."_

_Sam glanced at her, surprised, "You've been here before?"_

"_My parents and I used to come here all the time," She explained, looking away from him and out the window, studying the scenery as they drove, "Before she left. Best burger around."_

_Sam scoffed, "I doubt that. Little place like that? No way."_

_Andy smirked now, her mind taken off thoughts of days that were long past. Maybe not happier, but certainly days in which she enjoyed the comforts of a closer family. "Wanna bet?"_

How he managed to remember something as insignificant as that after a month had passed was beyond her, but as he indicated for her to sit down, she discovered that she was hungrier than she'd thought. She unwrapped the burger and started to eat, not caring if she looked piggish. Anyone who had seen Sam Swarek eat couldn't be self-conscious about their own habits. Sam looked at her with an I-told-you-so expression before unwrapping the burger he'd brought for himself. Andy rolled her eyes, but was too distracted by the food to comment. After she finished her burger, she was about to speak when Sam put his hand back inside the bag, brandishing a second one and setting it in front of her.

"You honestly expect me to believe you're full?" He asked when she started to protest. She didn't see the point in arguing, and ate the second one as he watched, amused.

She finished the food and sat back, "You done shoving food at me?"

"For now."

"Great. Want to tell me why you're here, then?" She crossed her arms. She'd had to pull herself together rather quickly when he showed up at her door, and she had a feeling that the cracks were beginning to show through. She was putting on an air of being fine with everything that had transpired but, then again, so was he. He prided himself on being a fabulous liar, but she could see right through the front he was putting up right now. She could tell Shaw's death had affected him more than he'd care to admit.

"I came to make sure you didn't wither away," He replied, rising and beginning to clear off the table.

"I can do that," She interrupted, standing as well and reaching for the wrapper of his burger as he did. She ignored the spark that shot through her hand as their skin connected, feeling guilty that she should feel anything at all. What was wrong with her?

"How about I clean up while you go get ready?" He suggested.

"Get ready?"

"Yeah, go get dressed. There's something I want to show you."

"And if I don't want to?"

"Too bad, McNally. Go change or whatever it is women do when getting ready, and don't take too long."

Andy rolled her eyes, groaning in frustration but heading to her bedroom at the look on his face.

Twenty minutes later, Andy had pulled on her favourite jeans and a loose gray t-shirt. She took one look at herself with her swollen, tired eyes, and pulled her hair out of the ponytail in an attempt to hide her face.

"Okay, I'm ready. Let's get this over with."

"Don't be so enthusiastic."

"No danger of that."

"Before we go… Do you always keep an unopened bottle of whisky on your coffee table?"

Andy had forgotten that she left the bottle there, and knew what it must look like.

"It's not mine. I took it. From my dad."

"Doesn' t matter where you got it, McNally. I'd guess that you've spent the entire afternoon staring at it, trying to decide whether or not to drink it."

She wished he'd stop with his damn guessing; it was getting on her nerves, especially since he had been right each time.

She shrugged noncommittally.

"Alcohol isn't the answer here," He told her warily. He knew he was treading on thin ice.

"Yeah, I know that, ok? I'm not my god damn father," She snapped, immediately regretting her tone when he was only trying to help, "Sorry. Are we going to go or what?"

Sam frowned, but nodded nonetheless. He headed for the door, and she followed, grabbing her purse on her way by the table beside the door, pausing to lock the apartment on the way out.

Sam led her down the stairs and out of the building, passing Gina in the parking lot. She smiled at Sam, exclaiming, "Great! I see you got in ok!"

He blew past her with a cursory nod and Andy would have laughed at the look on her face, had she been in the mood to feel anything but this crushing weight. It was then that Andy realized the weight wasn't as crushing as it had been this morning. She felt slightly panicked and largely guilty about that. Her partner had died and she was over it in a day?

No, she knew she was nowhere near being over it, but she was starting to realize that having company definitely made her feel less desolate. It gave her less time to think about everything she'd done wrong and what she should have done to prevent Shaw from…

Her thoughts abruptly cut off as they reached their destination: The Black Penny.

Andy frowned, "This is it?"

"What were you expecting, Disneyland?" Sam muttered as he opened his door.

She didn't dignify that with a response as she followed him into the bar, wondering why in the world he wanted to take her to the bar she was in pretty much every night after work. What was so special about it now?

* * *

**A/N: So I'm going to end it there. And add in yet another chapter to the grand plan, because I wanted to get farther than this. I always seem to get side-tracked. I'm still unsure of Sam. I struggle writing the males. I don't know why, but I can never get them right. They're always too girly… haha. Let me know what you think!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: So here's the next chapter. I'm very proud of myself for keeping up with this like I have. **

* * *

Andy stepped through the door after Sam, still confused as to why he insisted on bringing her here.

"So… Why are we here, exactly?"

Sam turned back to her, "You'll see," He answered mysteriously, then indicated behind her, "Looks like Nash's waiting."

Andy frowned as he turned, leaving her standing in the middle of the bar. What the hell? He brings her here, intent on showing her something, and then leaves her? She exhaled in frustration before spinning on her heel and making her way over to where Traci and Dov sat.

"Hey, didn't expect to see you here," Traci commented, looking pleased at the surprise.

"Didn't expect to be here," Andy muttered, then explained further at the looks of confusion, "Sam showed up and dragged me down here. Still don't know why."

Dov only shrugged, while Traci gave Andy a look she knew too well; she ignored it.

"So how was your day off?" Dov asked, for lack of a better opener. She'd known him long enough to realize this was him trying to subtly broach the topic of Shaw's death. In other words, he was barrelling towards it like a semi with no brakes.

"It was dull and full of boredom. I can't wait to get back to work. Let's talk about something else."

Dov and Traci both pressed their lips together, and Andy tried to ignore the look they shared before they both launched into a different story. Traci won, relating how she was planning to introduce Leo to Jerry soon. Andy wished her good luck, and found it quite easy to lose herself in the conversation. Sure, she knew they were avoiding all talk of last night like the plague, but she was glad.

As Dov started telling some tall tale about two flight attendants, Andy found herself tuning out, looking around the bar. She saw Gail and Chris in a corner laughing over drinks, and Sam and Jerry sitting at a table, trying to ignore the empty third chair between them. Luke was sitting at the bar with a couple of his friends from homicide. She bit her lip before turning her attention back to her friends. Even though she was pretty sure they'd ended things, he looked completely carefree, proving he probably hadn't really cared for her in the first place. There she went with that good taste in men again.

Needing to move, she pushed back her chair. "I'm going to get something to drink. You guys want anything?"

Traci shook her head while Dov pressed a five dollar bill into her hand for a beer, despite her protests. She would have paid for it herself, but Dov was like that about money; he always needed to pay for things, like he had to prove that he could.

Andy wove her way through the crowd, placing her hand on the bar to steady herself when she got there. She could feel multiple sets of eyes on her; no doubt whispers joined those eyes. Whoever said that the adult world was any less gossip-filled was lying.

"A beer, please," She ordered for Dov, casting a quick glance around the bar. As the bartender left -thinking she was finished- Andy felt someone sidle up next to her, and she didn't need to look to know who it was.

"Decided to drink after all?"

The bartender returned then, setting the beer in front of her. "And a water for me, too, please," She said, effectively answering his question.

"Guess not," He muttered, and then turned to the bartender, "Scotch, rocks."

"I see you have other plans," Andy commented dryly, turning her back to the bar and leaning against it, propping herself up with her elbows.

"That I do," He admitted, accepting his glass and turning to lean against the bar with only one elbow. He took a drink as he studied her face.

"You-uh-feel like telling me why I'm here now?" She asked, noticing how close he was standing and instantly berating herself for it.

His lips twitched slightly, "Persistent. Or do you just want to go back to your hole?"

Her eyes narrowed, "I'm really not in the mood for this."

"Look, I only brought you here so you could see what we do when we lose one of our own."

She didn't know what to say to that. So far, nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Of course, as soon as she thought that, Detective Barber joined them and spoke loudly to the bartender, ordering a round of shots in honour of Oliver Shaw. To Andy's surprise, a large group of people gathered, each taking a shot. One was shoved into her hand, and the entire bar went quiet. She looked at Sam, bewildered, but his eyes were focused on the wall beside the bar. She turned to see where he was looking, and was startled to see a sort of memorial that she had never seen before; it contained framed pictures of about fifteen men in uniform and two women. Above their photos was the caption "Forever in the Line of Duty…" As she watched, the bartender took a framed photograph of Shaw and hung it with the others. He straightened it as the cops holding shots raised them slightly in a toast.

"Shaw," They chorused, knocking the alcohol back simultaneously.

Andy stayed rooted to the spot, not sure how to take what was happening. This was what Sam had wanted her to see? Sure, it made her happy to see that lots of officers honoured Shaw, but it really did nothing for her overall morale. The only thing she could think after her moment of initial shock was that, had she been a better cop, this ritual would never have had to happen. She left her shot on the bar, knowing that if she drank it, she'd only order more alcohol, and she wanted to stay true to what she'd told Sam.

She turned back to question Sam about why exactly he thought this would magically make her better, only to find him back at the table with Detective Barber. Of course he would go back to his own friend. The fact that he insisted she come here gave him absolutely no obligation to justify any of this to her, and _of course_ it gave him every right to just leave her to her own devices once they arrived. She found herself to be irrationally angry suddenly, and had to take deep, calming breaths to settle her raging emotions. Andy understood none of what was happening to her; she wasn't usually this emotional.

"Andy." A smooth voice behind her threatened to send her over the top. As much as she wanted to talk to Luke before, now was just _not_ a good time. She gritted her teeth and spun around, trying to shove the irrational anger back to the pit of her stomach.

"Luke."

"I-uh-I was going to come see you but… I wasn't sure if you wanted me to, what with… you know," He seemed to be fumbling for words, something he didn't do often. Luke Callaghan was very smooth-talking; he always had the right words on the tip of his tongue.

She eyed him blearily, tired of dealing with the awkwardness already. It was like her patience had evaporated overnight. "I'm fine. I don't need anyone holding my hand."

Luke nodded jerkily, "I know, I just… I thought… Well I don't really know what I thought. I don't like the way we left things, Andy."

"Neither do I, but it had to happen sooner or later," She snapped, crossing her arms. The beer she was supposed to be bringing Dov, along with her water, was sitting on the bar behind her.

"What are you saying?" He asked, eyebrows raised.

"I'm saying that your nature would have come out sooner or later. I overreacted, true, but it doesn't change the way I feel."

Now the poor man just looked confused.

Andy barely supressed an eye roll, wondering why she could possibly be so irritated. Luke hadn't done anything to annoy her yet.

"I don't understand how one little thing can just destroy what we have. We're good together!"

Her jaw clenched momentarily, "That's it right there. To me, this isn't just _one little thing_."

She wasn't aware that she'd done it, but somehow she ended up standing very closely to Luke, drawn up to her full height. The short distance between them was charged with electricity, but it wasn't of the romantic variety. Luke seemed to sense this, and immediately backed off.

"Everything OK here?" A new voice interrupted whatever Luke was going to say, and they both turned to face Sam. He looked wary of interrupting, but it also looked as though she and Luke had been starting to draw attention to themselves.

"We're fine, Swarek," Luke snapped, turning away.

"Sure about that?" Sam asked, looking at Andy, not Luke.

Andy nodded firmly. "Yep. We were just finishing up," She said, shooting a pointed look at Luke, "Detective."

She wasn't sure how she managed to break up with Luke Callaghan twice in as many days, but as she watched him walk away, she couldn't help but feel relieved, and slightly proud of herself. The way she heard things, Luke Callaghan broke the women's hearts, not the other way around; though he probably wouldn't be heartbroken for long.

Once he was out of earshot, she turned her attention to Sam's questioning face.

"Want to tell me what that was all about?"

"Nothing to tell," Andy shrugged, reaching for the drinks on the bar.

Sam reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her, "Stop shutting me out, dammit!"

Andy looked over at him, taken aback by his sudden aggression. "I'm not."

"You are, and you know it. You're shutting everyone out, McNally, and it doesn't help. Trust me."

Trust. He wanted her to trust him. It was true; trust was the foundation of all relationships, whether they are friendships, romances, families… But where had trust ever gotten her? She trusted her father, and he continually broke his word. She trusted her mother, and she walked out on her in the middle of the night. She trusted countless boyfriends, and they all broke her heart in some way. She trusted Shaw, and he left her with the enormous weight of guilt on her shoulders. She couldn't afford to trust anyone else; her heart was already to beaten.

"It may not have helped you, but I'm _not_ you," She replied, her voice sounding too cold to be her own.

Sam looked like he wanted to say something else, but seemed to think better of it and released her arm slowly, staying rooted to the spot as she grabbed the drinks and returned to Dov and Traci.

"Finally!" Dov exclaimed, "Did you get lost on your way to the bar or something?"

A moment ago, she had been so angry she could barely contain herself, but now Andy just felt drained. She had no effort to come back with some witty retort, and instead slid the drink along the table to Dov. Traci sensed something was off and immediately changed the topic. Andy was grateful to just sit and listen to meaningless chatter instead of having to pitch in. While she was gone, Chris and Gail had come to join them, and every so often Andy would spot one of them looking at her, trying to be subtle. After another half hour of this, she grew bored and could think of nothing but going home and collapsing into bed. She felt like she hadn't slept in a week. Bidding everyone a good night, Andy rose from the table. Traci made sure she was coming back to work tomorrow morning before she left her friends to continue raving about the day's events. She passed the table Sam and Barber occupied, thinking Sam probably wouldn't care to know she was leaving.

Andy relished the feel of the cool air against her skin as she stepped outside, but as the door closed behind her, she could feel the memories coming back. The silence and solitude did nothing to protect her from her own thoughts.

"McNally, hold up!"

Andy turned in surprise, not expecting Sam to have followed her.

"What, you thought I'd leave you with no way home?"

Andy rolled her eyes, "I'm used to walking."

"Yeah, well when I take a girl out, I take her back home."

Andy chose to ignore the insinuation in his comment, instead shaking her head, "Well then I can be the exception. Go back inside."

Sam shook his head this time, "No can do. Get in the car."

Andy watched as he made to get in the driver's side, "Are you kidding me? You're not driving!"

He looked utterly confused, "And why am I not?"

"Because you've been drinking!" Andy exclaimed.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Please, McNally, I can handle a little alcohol. I'm not a schoolboy."

She gritted her teeth and marched over to where he stood, plucking the keys from his hand before he had a chance to react, "That's what they all say. But eventually, they all crash."

He started to protest but at the look on her face, he stopped any attempt at an argument me might have made. Sighing in defeat, he climbed into the passenger seat of his car as she slid behind the wheel.

"Hold on!" He said suddenly as she started the car.

She looked at him, and when he didn't reply, asked, "What?"

"You _can_ drive, right?"

Andy just rolled her eyes, ignoring the little voice in her head that told her this moment was too normal for her to experience.

* * *

**A/N: So this is just not cooperating with my plan. Again, it took much longer than I expected to get where I wanted, and I ended it a bit early. Now I have to puzzle out the next step. I'm not too sure how I feel about this one either; this story is sort of taking on a life of its own and going off in its own direction, in a way. So anyways, reviews would be awesome!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: OK, I'm sorry it took me so long to update. I wasn't sure what to do... but I've managed to string this together. I'm not entirely sure how i feel about it, seems like that's becoming a common theme with these chapters...**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Andy drove exactly the speed limit to the address Sam gave her, ignoring his periodic gasps and winces as she drove too close to a parked car or applied the brakes a little too forcefully. If she hadn't been so exhausted she would have found him amusing.

She pulled the car to the curb and they both got out, Andy tossing him the keys as she walked around the front of the car.

"Thanks, for… whatever it was that was accomplished tonight," She said, shoving her hands into her pockets.

"No problem."

"Still not going to tell me why?" She asked, frustrated.

"Look, out of everything that happened tonight, the one thing that didn't happen was everyone blaming you, right?"

"Depends how you look at it."

Sam's brow furrowed, "And how exactly do you look at it?"

"No one's going to blame me to my face."

"No one's going to blame you, period! It was that addict's fault, no one else's."

Andy looked at the ground. A small part of her knew that he was right, but a larger part of her found it vastly easier to continue blaming herself.

"But, maybe, if I could have-"

"No," Sam's voice firmly cut across hers, "No, don't go there. Nothing you could have done would have prevented it, so stop trying to figure it out. What's done is done."

Andy wanted to tell him that it wasn't done, because what happened was living on in each and every one of them. It would be there when she got ready for work in the morning; it would be there when Michelle Shaw woke up; it would be there when his children grew up without him. This wouldn't ever be done.

"Yeah… Yeah, sure. I should get going," She murmured instead, ending the conversation, to Sam's visible exasperation.

He looked as though he wanted to say something more, to push his point further, but opted instead to say, "Yeah. Um, thanks for driving me and everything, but… how are you going to get home?"

"I'll walk," She said simply, 'It's not that far."

Sam nodded, realizing that she was right.

Andy turned and took a couple steps before turning back abruptly, "How did you know where I live, anyways?"

Sam hadn't ever given her a ride home, and she couldn't remember ever mentioning it.

A slight smirk appeared on his lips then, the previous tension forgotten. It was disconcerting how quickly the atmosphere between them changed, and Andy found herself growing rapidly more confused by it. Sam's presence had calmed her thus far, and kept the memories away, but the effect was wearing off the more they went back and forth between normalcy and tension.

"I looked it up in your file," He answered, the smirk widening.

"Oh, you- wait you _what_?" She snapped angrily, "You looked in my _file_?"

Sam only nodded, his expression indicating that he saw nothing wrong with this.

"But, that's… That's against protocol!" Andy exclaimed, already seeing the flaw in her logic.

"I thought it was established that rules weren't exactly my forté?" Sam shot back, as predicted, with a raised eyebrow.

"Still…" Andy's mind raced to come to any kind of point that wouldn't make her sound totally ridiculous, "It's an invasion of privacy. I don't want you going through my life."

"I didn't go through your life, for your information. I got what I needed and looked at nothing more. I _do_ have boundaries, you know," He looked sincere for the first time since the topic had been broached, and Andy was starting to feel her anger melting away when he added in an undertone, "Andrea."

"Seriously? You just couldn't resist, could you." She crossed her arms, trying not to let herself be amused.

"You know me."

"Right. Well, could you just not spread that around, please?" She asked, looking around uneasily.

"Why not?" Unlike her, Sam had no trouble expressing his deep amusement.

"Because… well just because I don't want the entire station calling me _Andrea_."

Sam scoffed, "The entire station wouldn't call you that."

"You're one to talk, Sammy."

Sam was taken aback by that one. "How did you know…?"

It was Andy's turn to smirk, "I have my ways."

After a moment of stalemate, Andy took a couple of steps backward, calling out, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you."

She turned and started walking to her house, the smile lingering on her lips. It took her almost the entire walk home before she realized that maybe she was wrong about Sam's presence wearing off, because she hadn't thought about Oliver Shaw the entire walk.

* * *

Once inside her apartment, Andy quickly changed into fresh pyjamas and climbed into bed. She was determined to fall asleep quickly tonight. She had to.

"_Shots fired! This is Officer McNally, requesting backup!"_

_Please, _Please_, be okay. _

_Make your hand stop shaking._

_Slumped body. Dead green eyes. Still pulse. _

_Blood. Blood on her hands. Shaw's blood._

Andy bolted upright, gasping for breath, instinctively inspecting her hands for any sign of blood. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt suddenly dizzy. Her palms were covered in thick, red blood. Panicked, Andy wiped them on the blanket, calming slightly as the red smeared onto the sheet, but when she turned her hands back up, the blood was still there. She swiped them frantically against the blanket, but there was always blood on her hands when she brought them up to look at them. The blanket was almost completely soaked through from the blood and her throat was closing off and she couldn't breathe and the blood was everywhere and-

Andy gasped and sat up in bed, clutching her chest. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was only three in the morning. She'd arrived home at midnight, so she figured she'd gotten two and a half hours of sleep so far. Perfect.

She spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, haunted by nightmares. Each one was different, yet the same. It always ended with Oliver Shaw dead on the floor, his eyes staring up at her.

* * *

Her alarm clock beeped far too early for her liking. She had just managed to drift off after a particularly horrible nightmare and was rudely jerked back awake by the incessant beeping. Groaning, Andy rolled out of bed and into the shower.

Once she was clean –or as clean as she could be- she wiped off a circle on the mirror in the steam and surveyed her reflection. Her eyes were red and sported dark circles underneath. Her lips were drawn into a straight line, as though they'd never smile again. As she stared into her own pupils, she was shocked to see that they were even more haunted than yesterday. After staring at herself for a few more minutes, Andy turned away, sighing in resignation.

She arrived at the station twenty minutes early, a first for her.

"Wow, you're early. To what do we owe this pleasure?" Chris's voice boomed across the bullpen as she wandered in. He was always a half hour early on principle.

Andy tried to smile –like normal- but it came out more like a grimace, "The perks of having a day off. I had time to get ready beforehand."

Chris grinned, "Finally, Andy McNally has some order in her life."

This time the grin came a little easier, but not quite as full as it should have been.

"Hey… uh… how are you doing?" He asked, trying to sounds casual, but failing miserably.

"I'm fine," Andy lied and, for once, it came second nature. Chris bought it.

* * *

She was assigned to working the desk with Chris for the day. Considering how she must look, it was surprising that Boyko didn't send her home straight away.

"Swarek, take Epstein out for the day. Patrol duty," Boyko ordered, the last on his list of assignments, leaving the room with even less interest on his face than when he entered it. Epstein. Sam was going to hate being stuck in a patrol car with Dov all day. It was almost enough to make her laugh.

She avoided looking at anyone as she made her way to the desk, kind of glad to be spending the day with Chris; he was so focused on the job that there would be little time for idle chit chat.

* * *

Ok, so maybe this wasn't such a blessing. It had been an hour and Andy was bored. Chris was tapping a pen against the desk, trying to think of something to do while they sat behind the computers.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

An officer walked by, escorting a crying woman in handcuffs.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Two kids ran by the desk, their father following, shouting at them to stop.

Tap. Tap. Bang.

Andy's head jerked up.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Her eyes searched wildly for the source as different images flashed before her eyes. Shaw's slumped body, his dead green eyes, the gun pointed at her face.

Bang. Bang. What.

"What?" Chris's voice cut through her panic.

Taking a deep breath, Andy realized she must have looked alarmed. Glancing at him, she saw that he was still tapping his pen.

"Nothing. Can you stop doing that?"

Chris looked momentarily surprised, "Uh, sure, sorry."

Sighing, Andy turned back to staring at the waiting room in front of her as Chris spoke enthusiastically to a lady who had just entered. With nothing better to do, Andy randomly started clicking buttons on the computer; it was better than letting herself think. Eventually she found herself in a collection of files she knew nothing about. Intrigued, she clicked on folders at random, glad to finally be entertained by _something_.

The computers at the front desk had access to everything in the precinct's system, from lists of booked prisoners as far back as ten years, to employees' files. There was never a shortage of things to click on, and often the officers on desk duty entertained themselves by seeing who could find the most ridiculous offence. Chris, of course, didn't take part in this activity, seeing as it wasn't exactly protocol. Maybe it wasn't such a good thing, being stuck at the desk with Chris all day.

After another half hour, Andy remembered something from last night. Smirking, she made a quick series of clicks, feeling a thrill of adrenaline as she glanced over her shoulder. She couldn't be caught doing this.

Five minutes later, Andy snorted in laughter, disrupting the silence of the empty room.

"What?" Chris asked, leaning over to look at her screen before she could hide it, "Andy, what are you doing? You know it's against the rules to look in our coworkers' files!"

"Oh relax, Chris. I'm not looking in everyone's files," Andy rolled her eyes as she hit the back button, returning the screen to orderly rows of folders. Chris rolled back to his side of the desk, still mumbling, as she surveyed the rest of the names in the 'S' category. She froze when she got to Oliver Shaw.

Hesitantly, she clicked on the name and stifled her reaction as Oliver's face filled the screen. The last file she looked in hadn't been like this one; she felt almost guilty as she scanned the information, but she was desperate to know more about the man whose death she'd been at least marginally responsible for. Oliver Shaw was born October 23rd, 1971 in Toronto. He was married to Michelle Shaw, and they had three children, two daughters and a son; children who would grow up without their father. He had a sister, Harriet Shaw, his parents having passed away four years previously. Harriet was alone now, the last of her family left alive. All this pain left behind by some careless mistakes and too much bravado.

_There are children in there, McNally. There's no time for back-up._

Andy ground her teeth together as she clicked off the files and excused herself to go to the washroom, leaving Chris alone. She needed to get a grip.

* * *

After four more hours, filled with boredom and yawning, end of shift finally came. Andy and Chris bolted away from the desk, happy to be rid of it. Andy decided that she hated desk work, and hoped Boyko would put her back out in field soon.

"Of course, that would require me to actually get some sleep," She muttered to herself aloud.

"What?" A voice came from behind her.

Great. Now she would be considered crazy, too.

Andy spun around to see Sam coming toward her.

"Nothing," She answered, trying to play it off.

"Talking to yourself now?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No…" She lied, trying not to be obvious.

He didn't buy it, "Sure. How was your day of desk duty?"

She knew he was goading her and responded in kind, "Great, how was your day with Dov?"

He flinched.

"That good?"

"Pretty much. When are you coming back to work?"

"I don't know, whenever Boyko decides to put me back in the field I guess. Why, miss me?" She asked, smiling slightly.

He held up his hands in surrender, "Got me."

Her heart skipped a beat, even though she knew he was only saying it because, well, it was Dov.

"You heading over to the Penny?" He asked.

"Uh, no. I think I'm just going to head home. I'm, uh, really tired."

"Right."

Andy nodded once, turning away.

"McNally?" He called after her.

She turned back.

"Sleeping pills don't help, so, uh, don't waste your money."

She pressed her lips together, "Thanks."

She turned her cell back on as she left the division, looking forward to a walk after being cooped up behind a desk all day. Her phone indicated that she had missed five calls, and had two new messages. Searching through the list, Andy found that they were all from her father, and barely contained a grimace. She sighed, knowing she would have to listen to them eventually, and it was a long and lonely walk home.

* * *

**A/N: So this one, again, I'm not sure of… it's definitely longer! Not sure if that's a good thing? A bad thing? Let me know!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So I've updated my other multi-chapter stories in other sections, so I am now allowed to write another chapter of this!**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

"_Hey, honey, it's me. We need to talk. Call me back." _BEEP!

"_Andy, I was going to wait until you called back, but I need to say this now. I'm trying as hard as I can to be who you want me to be, and I'm sorry that I can't be that person. I know I'm a disappointment, and I know you probably don't want to hear from me, but I had to tell you that I'm trying as hard as I can. I know you've heard it before sweetheart, but this time I mean it. I always want to be there for you. I haven't been lately, but-"_BEEP!

The message cut off as her voicemail ran out of time. Andy stared at her phone, dumbfounded, as the automated voice told her she had reached the end of her messages. Slowly, she pressed the number 7 to delete the messages, turning over what her father had said in her mind. He wanted to be there for her. He was trying his best. She wondered briefly if he was drunk, but immediately dismissed the idea. She knew when her father was drunk, and his words didn't have the familiar lilt to them. She'd heard the speech before, but this time… there was something different in his voice this time. She wasn't sure what it was, and she knew that this sudden change didn't mean she could trust him, but she found her feet taking a new course, driven by her need to find out why she felt like this time, her father actually meant it.

She rang the buzzer at her father's apartment complex, and when he answered, she spoke only two words, "It's me."

Her father let her in wordlessly and she ascended the stairs, her heart pounding. She reached the door, but paused before knocking. Her stomach was in knots; she didn't know why she felt this nervous going to see her father. Perhaps it was because the last time she'd spoken to him she'd walked out on him. It had happened yesterday, yet it felt like ages had passed since then. She was here because of the message he left her, nothing more. At least that was what she tried to convince herself. The whole truth was that she didn't want to go home to her empty apartment, with only her thoughts for company. She knew she wouldn't sleep again tonight, but she wanted to delay the inevitable. If she were perfectly honest, she wouldn't be here right now if she knew that going home would result in a night of uninterrupted, dreamless sleep. She would probably have dealt with the messages tomorrow in any other situation. However, the fact remained that she was in _this_ situation, so here she was.

Sucking in her breath, she knocked. It felt like an eternity before she heard the lock turning and the chain sliding. She blew the breath out quickly before sucking in another one.

Her father's face emerged from behind the wooden door, and there was something in his eyes that was different than the expression she'd seen yesterday.

They stood facing each other awkwardly for a few moments, before he broke the silence, "Andy… I… I'm glad you're here."

She shifted her weight to the other foot, suddenly unsure why she'd come. She wasn't sure she wanted to deal with this right now.

"Your, uh, message got cut off."

"Oh, I thought I heard the damn thing beeping… Sorry."

"It's okay," Andy said, for lack of a better response. Another uncomfortable silence engulfed them.

"Um… Come in," Her father said, realizing that she was still standing outside.

Andy wiped her hands across her thighs as she entered. The apartment looked the same as yesterday, not that she'd expected it to change.

When the door closed behind her, Andy was even less sure of herself. She wasn't sure what she wanted to say, if anything.

"So… back to work?" her father asked, trying for small talk when Andy made no attempt at conversation.

She nodded, "Yeah, Boyko's got me on the desk but at least it's something."

"That it is. I remember back when I'd get stuck with desk duty. We'd go through the bookings and see who could find the most ridiculous one."

Andy's lips curved upwards slightly, "So do we."

Her father smiled then, and it was the first true smile Andy had seen from him in weeks, which caused her own smile to grow into a genuine grin.

"Look, sweetheart, I'm sorry about yesterday. I didn't want that to happen. It, uh, it made me realize some things."

"Like what?" She asked, twisting her fingers together nervously, not looking at him. They were still standing in the entryway.

"I, uh, I don't want to be that guy anymore. I want to be there for you. You leaving, it made me wonder what kind of father I am. You came to me for help, and my drinking got in the way of that," He rubbed his hands together nervously, avoiding looking at her just as much as she avoided looking at him. "I don't want you to feel like you can't rely on me. We've been twisted since your mother left, and I want to set things straight. I want to be your rock, instead of the other way around. I want to be strong for you. I want you to be proud to call me your father."

Andy stood stock still through her father's speech; he wasn't one for words and emotions, and she'd learned that if he felt the need to express himself, it was best to stay quiet.

"Andy… you're my kid. To me, that means something, and I, uh, I haven't really been showing a whole lot of that to you. I, uh, I'm sorry."

She couldn't pretend this didn't surprise her. Her father had never said anything like this before and her mind spun in dizzying circles, trying to take it all in. It was everything she'd wanted to hear for years, but could she really believe it? Was it only a temporary lapse into normalcy, or was this it? Would she be the broken, disappointed woman once more in a few weeks' time, when he had another 'weak moment'? The questions were all too much to bear.

"Was that… was that what the rest of message said?" She finally asked.

Her father cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable with his display of emotion, "Yeah that was pretty much it."

Yet another silence fell between them, both wondering what to do and say next.

"Dad… It, uh, well… it means a lot to me… you saying all that… but…" Andy stopped, unsure of what exactly she was trying to tell him, or maybe she already knew and was just afraid of saying the words aloud. She ran a hand through her hair, which hung loosely around her shoulders as always.

"How do you know I mean it?" He finished.

She nodded, unable to speak.

"Because this time I know what's at stake. If I mess up, walk out on me. Don't ever talk to me again. I don't want to hurt you anymore, Andy. I want to help you. I want you to be able to tell me what's going on in your life, without having to worry about whether I'm drunk or not. You're supposed to come first in my life, and from this point on, you will."

Andy sucked in a breath, "It all sounds so great when you say it like that. But what happens when you have a rough day, huh? What happens when you wake up one morning and you want that glass of scotch so bad you burn for it? What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to remember yesterday. I'm going to remember the day my little girl came and told me her partner was shot dead in front of her and all I could think about was that damn bottle hidden in the back of my fridge. And I'm going to remember how it felt to watch you walk out that door, not knowing if you were ever coming back."

Never before had she had such an open conversation with her father. It stung to realize that yesterday's hours of conversation were really just her father's way of covering up his desire to drink. She remembered how much she'd enjoyed the conversation, up until the bottle was discovered, and couldn't stop the betrayal from invading her heart. It was exactly what happened every time; the drink came first. She should be used to it by now, but it still cut a fresh wound each time. It was ridiculous to be jealous of a drink, but she was. She didn't understand how he could care more about alcohol than about his own flesh and blood. Yet here he was, saying he could change all of that. She wanted so badly to believe him, but she could feel the walls starting to come up. She'd been disappointed enough by this man, and she wasn't planning on going through it again.

It was like an abusive relationship, in a way. She remembered coming to that revelation when she heard Melanie telling her that it was going to be different, that he wouldn't hit her anymore, and all she heard was her own voice in her head, telling her the same thing about her father. _It's okay. It's going to be different this time. He says it's going to be better._ She told Melanie that she understood, but the woman hadn't listened to her advice, and Andy found herself in the same situation that night that Melanie would undoubtedly be in again come next month. He told her that he quit, and it would be better. Her father consistently broke his word; it was the only thing she could count on him to do. At least he didn't put cinnamon in her coffee.

Andy shifted back and forth from foot to foot, unsure of what to do. She wanted to believe him, but she was quickly becoming pessimistic where the world was concerned. A world in which a good man, a father to three young children, a loyal police officer, could be shot dead while the criminal who killed him got to live on –in prison, sure, but living just the same. A world in which innocent people died every day, while criminals were either carted off to live in a cage or escaped the wheels of justice on some technicality, or –by a rare chance- their own intelligence. This job was turning her into the type of person who could see only the negative in any situation, and the negatives were all she could see here. She didn't want to get hurt again; she'd been hurt enough.

"You can't act like this is the first time you've told me this," She spoke, trying hard to keep her voice detached. She didn't want to give in to the emotion that had evaded her for days. She wasn't sure if she would ever cry again, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to. She didn't want to be the weak one of the bunch, though at the same time, she didn't want to become like Luke either; she didn't want to become accustomed to death and disappointment.

"I know it's not, and I don't expect you to believe me blindly. Just take it one day at a time?" He appealed to her, his voice holding the faintest note of pleading.

Andy considered this, her mind immediately jumping to the negative consequences giving her father her trust once more could have for her. She'd been reluctant to trust Sam, to trust anyone really, because of the many times her father had betrayed her, and she wasn't sure if she could so willingly offer herself up to be beaten around some more. She'd told herself she was done with trust, but his voice was so hard to resist. One day at a time sounded so reasonable…

Andy bit her lip, wanting so badly to give in to his request, but she'd done it so many times before, and she was ready to change that. She wasn't going to be the naïve little girl who had such blind faith in her daddy anymore. She wondered if Oliver's daughters would have maintained their faith in him, had they had the opportunity to grow with him. She wondered if they would have wanted nothing more than to follow in their dad's footsteps, just as she had. She wondered if they would have done it for different reasons than her own. She would never know, and neither would they, and it was her fault.

"I… I don't know if I can do that," She replied carefully.

Her father's shoulders sagged, "I guess I can understand that."

He _guessed_ he could understand it? How the hell could he not? He'd hurt her time and time again and she'd come back for more over and over…

Something about the way she put it struck her, and she realized what she had been too blinded to see before. It wasn't only her father's fault that she kept getting hurt; it was her own. She was the one who kept coming back for more; She was the one who let herself think it would be different; She was the one to blame here, just as much as the man before her. Of course, if she were to tell any of this to Sam, he would contradict her logic right away, but she wasn't the woman who would believe him anymore. Whether she wanted to be or not, she was different.

Her mind wandered briefly back to Oliver Shaw and his children. Would they, like her, be different after this? The obvious answer was that they would, but the actual question lay in _how much_ different they would be. Was she responsible for three young children becoming as jaded as she was right now?

Her thoughts were jumping all over the place, too erratic to be tied down to one thing for too long.

Finally, after a few minutes of silence in which Andy fidgeted with a loose thread on her shirt, she turned back to the door, then to her father, trying to decide. He was her flesh and blood… He loved her…

She looked up, her jaw clenching and unclenching, "But I can try."

There it was; the decision was made before she even knew she'd made it. Despite all the negatives swirling in her brain, despite all her caution, she couldn't resist him. She was instantly berating herself, but she couldn't take it back. _What's done is done._

Sam's voice echoed in her mind, and she fought to shove it back down. She didn't want to think anymore, she was tired of it. Too many things had happened in the last hour than she cared to deal with. Maybe she should have just gone home and dealt with the nightmares.

Her father smiled brightly, "You won't regret it this time, sweetie, I swear. I want this time to be different."

There it was: the inexplicable difference between this time and all the others. Every other time he gave this speech, it was always just going to be different, it was never personalized, it was never open, and it was never honest. Before, he said the words because she wanted to hear them, but this time he said the words because he wanted to say them. She could feel sincerity radiating right down to his core, and she could tell the words weren't empty, as they were before.

"So do I," she whispered.

Her father stepped forward awkwardly, then seemed to think better of whatever he was going to do, instead saying, "If you ever need to talk about… anything, I'm going to be there. Remember that."

She nodded, suddenly not trusting herself to speak. His proclamation had choked her up, because she had never heard those words form him before. She wasn't sure if she could depend on him to keep true to this; she didn't want to put herself back in the line of fire.

"I should go…" She said quietly, heading for the door. Her father didn't protest, and as the door closed behind her, she wondered what happened to her strong resolve not to give in again. She'd crumbled, just like she always did. Maybe she wasn't any different; maybe she was still the same, weak little girl underneath all the exterior layers.

She was halfway down the stairs, contemplating her complete lack of resolution, when she came to the realization of why she came back to him. She would always come back, she knew, because of that one thing. And then she was turning around and running back up the stairs, pounding on his door in desperation to see his face, and know that he would still stand by what he'd said, even after she left. He opened the door and she stood, breathing heavier from her short run.

"You better mean it this time, Dad," She told him forcefully, "Because I need you."

Her father stared at her in silence for a moment before replying, "I need you, too."

She heard a strangled noise from the hallway, and then her father moved toward her once more, and this time he finished his movement, drawing her into his arms. As the strangled noise repeated itself, she realized that it was her.

Just as her mind couldn't focus on one issue for long, Andy felt a whirlwind of emotions as her father's arms wrapped around her more tightly. She felt anger at the criminals she worked so hard to fight, and she felt sadness at the innocent people she failed to protect. She felt regret at not being able to save Oliver Shaw from his cruel fate, but most of all, she felt relief that her father was here for her, and hadn't abandoned her the second she left.

How long they stood there, she wasn't sure. Her mind went blissfully blank. All she knew was that her father was holding her as she finally cried, the rock she'd wanted for so many years.

* * *

**A/N: So… what did you think? That was a longer one. I was having an inner battle about who I wanted her to cry for: Sam, or her dad. Then I started writing this, and I thought it fit to have her cry here, but I'm not sure if it worked out the way I wanted it to. For some reason the chapters with her dad end up being the ones with the big long paragraphs and I'm not entirely sure why, but oh well. **

**Thoughts? Like it? Hate it?**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: OK, so I was aiming for five chapters at first, but that failed. So I aimed for ten, but I think that might fail too. I can try though! We'll see how it goes. Here's your update!**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Andy woke from another night filled with images of blood and the sound of gunshots just in time for her alarm clock. She'd left her father's late last night, having recovered from her embarrassing show of emotion about ten minutes after it started. While he was relatively new at the business of comforting crying women, her father had been exceptionally good at restoring her composure. Andy left soon after her tears dried up, her face flaming at her lapse into vulnerability. She wasn't that type of person–or maybe she was, she just didn't want to be.

Groaning, Andy dragged herself out of bed and into the shower. The sense of alertness she felt yesterday –despite her fatigue- wasn't present today, and she had a feeling she would regret waking up this morning. The scalding water did nothing to soothe her as it had previously, and she felt a trickle of panic at her growing resistance to anything that had once been remotely soothing. She closed her eyes at the feel of the water running over her exposed flesh, and immediately snapped them back open at the green eyes reflected in the blackness.

She hurried into the station -very nearly late- her exhaustion wearing her down more with every step. She slid into her seat beside Traci just as the shift sergeant entered the room, earning herself a look from Traci and a sarcastic remark from Gail, which she ignored with a great deal of effort. To her chagrin, it wasn't the same, disapproving look she was used to receiving when she rushed in late. This look had a twinge of pity in the mix. Stifling a grimace, she turned her full attention to the briefing and assignments, hopeful at her appointment to the booking room with Traci. At least today wouldn't be a total bore.

Andy and Traci headed down to booking, passing Dov and Sam. Dov looked excited to get to be out on the streets again, while Sam looked like he was undergoing a root canal. She avoided his scrutinizing look as they walked by, focussing instead on Traci telling her about her plan to take Leo to the zoo with Jerry. They'd planned the outing for the weekend, and Andy didn't think she'd ever seen her friend that nervous. She said all the right things, reassured in all the right places, but somehow it felt fake. Andy pushed open the door to the booking room to the usual burst of cool air.

_The thug struggled as Andy pushed him through the door._

"_Watch it, bitch!" He thundered._

"_Oh, very original. Haven't heard that one before," Andy muttered with a biting sarcasm, annoyed beyond comprehension. She and Shaw had arrested the man after a call for a break and enter and he'd kept up a constant string of chatter and abuse the entire ride back to the barn._

"_Yeah, well you haven't heard it from _me_!" Though the words themselves were immature, the threatening edge to them was almost enough to send a shiver down her spine. Almost._

"_Pipe down up there!" Shaw called, close enough to hear the exchange._

"_Or what?" he called back. Clearly, he wasn't the brightest bulb in the shed._

_Shaw's retort was lost as they entered the main room, which was louder than usual given the two women in a screaming match. Andy shoved the guy down onto a bench, handcuffing him to a railing to wait his turn before turning back and leaving the room with Shaw, neither of them knowing that he would never return to the 15__th__ precinct._

"Andy?" Traci asked, frowning in concern, "You okay?"

With a start, Andy realized she was still standing in the doorway. "Yeah, I'm fine," She answered, shaking her head slightly and stepping into the room.

Traci didn't look convinced, but moved to the desk to relieve the officers already there. The first officer handed Traci a clipboard containing the standard forms they filled out when criminals were brought in.

"Here, that guy over there won't say a word," He indicated a particularly surly looking man staring at his shoes in the corner, adding, "Good luck," before the two left the room, talking and joking as they went. Andy watched after them, wishing she could follow them back home.

"Alright, sir. Why don't you just make everybody's day a little easier and tell us your name?" her friend tried, sounding hopeful.

The man simply glared before resuming the study of his shoes.

Traci sighed, "Okay. We can wait. All day."

Andy refrained from intervening at that point; she didn't want to sit in silence all day and wait for this stupid guy to talk. People could be stubborn. She moved over to read the booking report over Traci's shoulder. Caucasian male, 5'8" 175lbs, brought in for domestic abuse. Neighbour called 9-1-1 with the report that he was in a fight with his girlfriend. The uniforms who arrested him found him, along with his bruised and bleeding girlfriend, still going at it when they arrived.

Obviously the other woman had expected that tactic to work, and seemed slightly deflated when it didn't. Andy moved over to the table, sorting through the guy's possessions roughly, tossing them out on the table.

"Hey!" He yelled, looking up for the first time, "Hey, that's my shit!"

Andy said nothing, checking every pocket of the guy's jacket for a wallet and tossing aside a pocketknife carelessly.

"Hey! That was expensive! Show a little respect!"

"Respect?" Andy snapped, her own voice sounding foreign and cold to her own ears, "You mean like you showed your girlfriend?"

Traci looked up, startled to hear the sudden change in tone.

"You don't know shit all about that."

"Don't I? You don't think I see assholes like you in here every day? You're just the same. You think you've got some kind of right to slap her around because she hurt your manly pride? You're disgusting."

"The bitch wouldn't let me get a word in!"

Andy scoffed, "Right, so let's smack her a few times. That'll shut her up."

Traci looked as though she wanted to interrupt, but she didn't.

The man glared.

"You know what's worse than an abuser?" Andy questioned rhetorically, "One who can't man up and admit to it."

"I didn't hit her that hard."

"That's why she was all cut up," Andy said, as though it was the answer to life.

"Look, she's gonna drop the charges. There's no point in me telling you shit."

Andy rolled her eyes.

"Sir, how expensive was that knife?" Traci jumped in, flabbergasting Andy completely. Who cared how expensive the guy's knife was?

"I dunno. It was a present. Figure it's gotta be worth about a hundred, maybe two," His voice turned smug.

"Right," Traci said, moving to the table and picking up the knife Andy had thrown.

"What are you doing?" She asked, confused.

"Knife this expensive, you get it engraved. You don't want people stealing it or anything," She muttered, turning it over in her fingers. Andy watched the guy freeze. "Aha. So, Kevin, got a last name?"

"Nope," He snapped.

"Of course you don't. Well, Kevin No-Last-Name, we can always charge you with obstruction of justice."

"You think those other guys didn't try that? I know you got no grounds."

"You know what? Just write Kevin down on that form and let's leave him there. I'm not in the mood for this. He wants to sit here all day, let him," Andy interrupted, fed up with the man.

Traci nodded, "Sounds good to me. Can I have a word with you? Outside?"

Andy nodded, clenching her jaw, and followed her friend out into the hall.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Andy nodded, avoiding her eyes.

"You were kind of harsh in there."

"Sometimes you have to be harsh," Andy replied, her voice still cool and strange.

Traci gave her a weird look, "I think you need to take a walk, Andy."

"No, I don't. I'm fine."

The other woman held up a hand, "Just… take a walk. Come back in a few minutes. I'll be fine."

Before Andy could argue, Traci turned and let herself back into the room, leaving her in the empty hallway. Sighing in frustration, Andy leaned against the wall before heading to get a cup of coffee.

* * *

The rest of the day was spent pretty much on autopilot; it was easier that way. After she got the emotion out, Andy realized that it was easier to just keep it out, shove it away. Traci sent her worried looks, knowing her too well to be fooled by her serious exterior. The only problem was that Andy's interior was just as serious. They kept up a steady stream of bookings, enough to occupy her mind. All the while, Kevin No-Last-Name sat in the corner sullenly, refusing to answer any questions. They'd tried searching him on the computer, but he had no prior convictions, so he wasn't in their database. Without a full report filled out, they couldn't send him down to lock-up.

"Alright, tough guy, let's go," Sam's harsh voice brought Andy out of her zombie-like state for a moment. She and Traci turned as Sam walked a scrawny little teenager into the room. The boy had a foul look on his face and was a future Kevin No-Last-Name. "Teacher reported him picking a fight with another boy. Book him on harassment."

"Yo, _this_ is harassment, man. I didn't do nothin'," The boy protested, yelping as Sam forced him down to the bench and handcuffed him to it.

"That's what they all say," Sam rolled his eyes, straightening up and turning to face the two rookies. "How's everything going in here today?"

All three knew the question was directed at Andy, but all chose to ignore that fact.

"Fine," Andy answered automatically, her voice void of any emotion.

Sam frowned, "Good. See you later."

Traci and Andy nodded as he left, both turning to face the boy.

"So… I don't suppose you want to tell us your name, do you?" Andy asked sourly.

The boy glared at her before turning to look at the wall.

"Great. I'll just call you Kevin No-Last-Name Jr," Andy sighed, resulting in several looks of confusion. It took her a moment to realize that nobody else knew what she'd just been thinking about.

* * *

By the end of their shift, Andy was so glad to be finished that she almost forgot about Kevin in the corner. The boy, Damon Hardinger, cracked after fifteen minutes of silence. He had a ways to go before he reached the patience of their friend Kevin.

"OK, here's the deal, Kevin. If you don't tell us your last name, we don't get to leave. And I really want to leave."

He stared at the ground.

"Cool, alright, Officer Nash here talked to your girlfriend about an hour ago," Andy tried, watching his face change imperceptibly.

He stayed silent.

"She's going to press charges. So we need your name or we _can_ charge you with obstruction of justice."

Traci's eyes widened and the guy looked up.

"She wouldn't do that to me. She loves me."

"Hard to love someone like you. So what was that name?"

The guy groaned, "Smith."

"The real name, please."

He groaned louder, "Dringett, alright? My name's Kevin Dringett. Can I talk to her? Make her see sense?"

Andy looked up from her writing to glance at him, "Oh she decided not to press charges about a half hour ago. Changed her mind. Soon as you go down to lock up and we get this all sorted out, you're free to go. Although, with the shift change, it could take a while. See you, Kevin."

As Kevin Dringett was led away, Andy turned to receive the most astonished and chastising look from Traci she'd ever seen on her face. That wasn't even a look Leo got yet.

"What the hell, Andy? You lied to that guy!"

Andy shrugged, "Got his name, didn't I?"

"Is that all you care about? What's wrong with you today?"

She looked up to study her friend, "Nothing's _wrong_ with me."

"Yes, something is. You're off today; you're not yourself."

Traci was right, of course, but Andy would never admit it. She had been playing the part of an empty shell all day today, but it made it easier. Shutting down was better than crying.

"I don't know what you're talking about," She replied to her friend, circling around her and out of the room as two new officers came to replace them. She needed to get away from this place.

* * *

"Hey, McNally!"

Andy slowed her pace slightly, glancing over her shoulder at Sam as he hurried to catch up to her.

"You going home?"

"I don't know yet," She answered. She didn't really want to go to the Black Penny, because she didn't want to be tempted to drink, but she didn't want to go home, either. Being on autopilot was easier when you had something to do.

Sam nodded his head in the direction of his truck. After eight months of living in squalor, he'd splurged and bought it for luxury's sake. "Let me give you a ride."

After a brief hesitation, Andy nodded in acceptance and followed him to his truck.

"I heard what happened today," He commented lightly as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"What do you mean?" Andy asked; there were several things he could have heard; each one of them would have had to come from Traci.

"The incident with Dringett," He responded casually, tapping his thumb on the steering wheel as he eyed the road.

"Oh."

Silence settled over the truck as Sam stopped at a red light. Andy stared out the window.

"You know, McNally, lots of cops change after they've seen a partner die."

Andy stayed silent, merely nodding. She stared hard at a house on the side of the street to avoid her eyes from filling with traitor tears. She was done with crying.

"Hey," He said gently, and she turned to look at him, her expression somewhat defiant, "It's okay to be a little off for a while. It only happened two days ago."

He was right about that part. It seemed like it had been ages since the shooting, but it had only been two days. Boyko would have her in the barn for at least a week, probably more. She didn't know if she could handle that much time cooped up inside, although that would give her more time to be on autopilot. Maybe that was why Luke enjoyed work so much; he could let his brain operate on its own, without having to let personal matters get in the way. It was nice, having no emotional reaction to anything. She felt like she understood him a little better now. It occurred to her that these thoughts should send off alarm bells in her head, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

"The light's green," She noted dully, and Sam turned back to the road, frowning as he pressed on the gas.

* * *

She wasn't entirely sure she was welcome over at the table with the other rookies after today, nor was she sure she wanted to be there. Idle chit chat just wasn't what she wanted right now. Sam, seeming to sense this, followed her to the bar instead of leaving as he had last time. Although, now that she thought about it, she'd needed to just sit with her friends and be somewhere else last time.

She ordered a club soda, knowing she shouldn't drink tonight. Sam ordered a scotch -it seemed to be his usual drink- and they made their way to a secluded table in the corner, both knowing where to go without needing to ask. They sat across from each other and Andy played with her drink to avoid looking up. She'd already informed him that if he had any plans of driving tonight, the scotch would be his first and last drink.

"You want to tell me what Dringett was all about?" He asked finally.

Andy sighed, she thought he'd let it go. "Not really."

"Ok, fair enough. What about the reason you're suddenly a robot?"

Andy bit her lip and shook her head. She'd already had her moment of vulnerability; she wasn't on the market for another one.

"I'd guess you think it's easier to just not feel anything, right?" He asked, and her silence confirmed it. "Thought so. McNally, feelings separate the good cops from the bad. The good cops can relate to the people, they can feel the connection, and it shows. The bad cops just go through the motions. Don't let Oliver's death impact the kind of cop you are."

"How can it not?" She snapped. "I watched a man die. If I would have- If I would have not let my emotions get in the way, he'd still be alive. Emotions get people killed, so what's the use?"

_Bang! Bang!_

_Gunshots. Andy froze. What was she supposed to do? Every bone in her body was telling her to run. Her emotions were running wild, fear coursing through her veins and mingling with adrenaline. She took a step backward, eyes wide. _

_Relax, she'd heard gunshots before. She needed to go figure out what was happening. She couldn't leave Shaw alone. Pull it together, McNally._

_Approaching the scene, the sight before her took her breath away and she had to stop again as a wave of dizziness overcame her. A man stood with a gun, and Oliver Shaw was slumped against the wall at his feet. _

_What was she supposed to do?_

She shouldn't have paused. If she would have reacted like a cop, Shaw would have had time to get to the ambulance. Everything would have been different if she hadn't felt so damn afraid.

"True, emotions get people killed, but they also keep them alive," Sam countered, leaning over the table on his forearms slightly, "And having no feelings doesn't mean it gets any easier."

She knew that he was speaking from personal experience, and just then something in her cracked. He was right, of course. She couldn't go through life without feeling anything; it wasn't right, and it wouldn't make her life any easier in the long run.

"What does?" She asked suddenly, after a moment of silence, "Make it easier."

She looked up at him, only to see his eyes filled with a soft sadness. It wasn't pity, or sympathy, and she couldn't quite describe it. The only thing she knew was that the look didn't stir up feelings of revulsion inside her, as so many of the others did. His expression didn't make her feel like he was looking down at her, or trying to understand something he didn't, because he was quite possibly the only person who understood perfectly. She didn't know why she didn't see it before. Instead, she'd gone to Luke, sure that the homicide detective who made a living looking at corpses held all the answers. She should have known from that moment in the locker room that Sam was the one she should go to to ask these kinds of questions. The victims Luke dealt with on a daily basis were just that: victims. To Sam, they were much more. Luke didn't know the people whose murders he solved, but Sam knew intimate details of each partner that died. After the case was over, Luke could push all thoughts of them out of his mind, but Sam's partners were with him forever, just as Andy would always carry the memory of Oliver Shaw with her.

Sam shook his head gently, "Nothing."

Andy bit her lip and looked back down at her drink, fiddling with it just to have something to do. She stared at the tabletop until she had the unshed tears under control, almost regretting her decision to abandon the robot she'd been impersonating all day. "I didn't think so."

"Over time the pain and the guilt fade, and all that's left are the memories. It gradually just becomes a part of you, and then it doesn't affect you as much."

Andy personally thought this was terrible. The idea that something like this could just fade back into the woodwork of her being was incomprehensible. It was almost the same as _getting used to it_ and _dealing with it_. It sounded like something Luke would say; it was something Luke _did_ say, and she'd exploded at him for it.

Before she could stop herself, she was frowning down at her drink, and then up at him. "How can it just not affect you anymore? How do you get used to something like this?"

"You don't get used to it, per se… You just get better at living with it," He answered, then held his hand up as she made to interrupt angrily, "I'm not saying you get used to it. Death is something that you should never get used to. I'm still not used to it."

"Then what are you saying?' She asked, neither having the effort to pick it apart, nor particularly wanting to. She just wanted someone to tell her what to do, and how to feel. She didn't want to have to deal with herself anymore.

"I'm saying that every death becomes a part of you, and it makes you who you are. You live with it, and it makes you a better cop in the long run."

Andy wasn't exactly sure she understood, but nodded anyway.

* * *

Later that night, as Sam drove her home, Andy's mind suddenly clicked on the day she'd spent with Chris on desk duty. She'd almost forgotten. The memory was enough to stir up a small smile from the depths of her depression. Her emotions were spiked all over the place, and she couldn't stand it. One minute she was up, the next minute she was down, one day she was happy, the next she was bawling. She hated it.

"So, you're sure you're okay?" Sam asked, and Andy noticed how the question didn't irritate her.

She nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for…"

"Anytime," He replied, knowing what she was talking about, "I mean it. You need anything, you know you can call me?"

She nodded again, biting her lip to avoid smiling prematurely, "Of course, _Samson Percival Swarek._"

Sam stiffened and he fought to keep his face neutral as he stared straight ahead, "How did you find that?"

Andy tried unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh, "You're not the only one who can access a file, _Samson_."

He turned to her, eyes flashing in what Andy found to be a comical way, though she was sure he meant it to be menacing. He leaned toward her, pointing a finger, "That doesn't leave this car, McNally."

Andy's smile widened as she stepped away, saying nothing.

"McNally," He repeated, warning coating his voice.

"Night, Samson," was all she said before turning and heading up to her apartment for what she hoped was a good night's sleep.

She wasn't counting on it though.

* * *

**A/N: So there it is! I was trying to find a funnier first name for him, but I came up with like a total of five possibles, and none were too funny… so… thoughts?**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: So here's another update. I had to dig deep to motivate myself to start it, because I know where I want to go with the chapter, I just don't know how to get there… **

* * *

**Chapter 9**

She was late again. Even worse, she looked more exhausted than she had yet this week. The nightmares had kept her up most of the night. It annoyed her, how she could grow resistant to things that helped clear the nightmares away, but the nightmares themselves never got old. In fact, it was pretty much the same damn thing every night.

She slipped in unnoticed, or maybe that was just because of the grace period. During the past couple of days, Andy had noticed that certain officers seemed to be going easier on her; she wasn't pounced on for being late, she wasn't barked at, and she definitely wasn't shoved around like some of the other rookies. As much as these things should come as a relief, Andy found that they grated on her nerves. She didn't want special treatment; that made what happened very real. The best way to help her get over this was for them all to just go back to taking the hard line. Although, once the week was up, she knew they'd do exactly that. She couldn't wait.

She stood in the back, since Boyko had already started talking, and wasn't surprised to find Sam leaning against the wall beside her a moment later.

"You look like crap. You sleep at all last night, McNally?" He asked in an undertone. Andy tensed and glanced at Boyko. He didn't appear to have heard.

She nodded, too afraid to speak. She felt like she was back in elementary school, about to be busted by the teacher.

She could tell he didn't believe her, but he left it at that. Apparently this teacher was one that scared even the mighty Sam Swarek.

Unfortunately, her position in the room made it impossible for her to escape before Sam could say anything more, and she hoped Boyko would just keep talking all shift. Of course, that was unrealistic, but she could dream. The openness of their conversation last night made her feel highly embarrassed to see him, though the rational part of her brain told her she had nothing to be embarrassed about. He'd told her she could come to him… Yet she wasn't used to pouring her heart out; it made her feel too exposed.

"…And McNally and Epstein are in the Filing Room today until two, then you guys are out as per your requests. Swarek, Barber, same thing. You two know what to do. Show the rookies." Boyko finished, flipping shut the clipboard he carried with him and retreating from the room.

Andy frowned. As per her request? Since when did she request to be off at two?

"Oh, by the way, I put in a request in your name so that you could get off at two," Sam told her -answering her unspoken question- as though it had only just occurred to him.

"What? Why?" She asked, still confused.

Sam looked at her as though she were crazy, "The funeral?"

Cold seeped down her spine, spreading throughout her entire body slowly. She'd almost forgotten. There was no way she was going to Shaw's funeral. No.

"McNally, you're going. If you don't, you'll regret it. End of story," He snapped, turning around and motioning for her and Dov, who was three paces away, to follow. Jerry fell into step with Sam as they left the room, both men looking solemn. It was weird seeing Jerry without the usual spring in his step and smile on his face.

Dov also looked withdrawn, Andy saw, as she walked with him. Shaw had been his main TO, and she felt like he was the one who should be on the receiving end of all the pitying glances and whispered sympathy, not her. Dov had definitely known Shaw better than she, but she couldn't help feeling sort of glad that she was the one who had to watch the man die. She wouldn't wish this kind of torment on anyone, least of all Dov.

"Okay, you both know the alphabet, right?" Sam asked, turning on the spot before the door, looking extremely bored. Andy and Dov both jumped in surprise at the sudden motion, not expecting it. On any other day, this would have amused Sam.

Dov nodded, Andy rolled her eyes slightly at the stupid question. She appreciated the effort at normalcy, but it was clear that none of them were exactly feeling 'normal' today.

"Good. That makes one of you. Epstein alphabetizes while McNally processes the documents. Not that complicated," He said, and it was clear that he was abandoning the effort. "McNally, over here."

It took her a moment to register his words, and she followed him over to the small desk behind the window where officers dropped off their paperwork. He explained the process of checking the paperwork into the system, then handing it to Dov to alphabetize and file away. It was going to be dull work.

Jerry took off to his office as soon as the preliminary explanation was done, but Sam stuck around for a bit longer. He leaned against the desk, closer to her than either of them should have allowed, especially since Dov was still in the room.

"Epstein, want to go get us all some coffee?" Sam asked, as though the same thought had just occurred to him, and Dov hurried from the room, sensing that it wasn't really a question.

"So…" Sam dragged out the word in the empty room, and Andy sighed in resignation. "How much sleep did you _really_ get last night?"

Andy shrugged, "Some."

He remained silent, and she could feel his eyes boring into her.

"Not a whole lot. Four hours at most," She mumbled, looking down at the keyboard.

Sam said nothing, merely nodding.

"It's just… Every time I close my eyes… He's there," She sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to deny it. She cleared her throat, turning to the computer as she came back to her senses. "But it doesn't matter. I'm dealing with it. It'll just take time before I get used to it."

Sam sighed, "McNally…"

Andy studied the computer screen, clicking to open a new document, intent on ignoring him. Of course, he wasn't having that.

"McNally," He said again, putting his hand over hers on the mouse, halting her motions. She tried to ignore the way the pressure of his warm hand over hers made her heart beat ever so slightly faster. She steeled herself before turning her head to look at him. She thought she was prepared for it, but she never was. His eyes caught hers, and she couldn't tear hers away. She'd intended to merely glance at him before turning her attention back to the screen before her, but she found that impossible to do now. His hand was still pressed on hers, but the pressure was no longer commanding, as it had been before; now, it was more tender and reassuring. She wasn't sure how such a small thing could have so many emotions tied to it.

_Bang!_

Andy jumped about a foot in the air as the noise interrupted whatever it was Sam was going to say. Sam appeared startled too, withdrawing his hand quickly from hers and straightening up. She faced the window quickly, her heart dropping in her chest as she noted the man standing on the other side.

"Officer McNally, Swarek," He snapped, appearing pleasant on the surface, but Andy could see his eyes moving mutinously between the pair.

"D-Detective Callaghan," Andy stuttered a little, much to her annoyance. He'd caught her off guard, flustered her. She pulled the papers he'd thrown on the metal surface towards her, checking to ensure all the blanks were filled in. Her mind was racing, her heart pounding for entirely different reasons than it had before. "Okay, everything looks good. Thanks."

Luke nodded curtly, hitting the side of his balled fist lightly against the desk a couple of times in a sort of resignation, his lips held tightly together as he turned away. Andy let her breath out in a huge gust as his tall, lanky form retreated down the hallway.

She didn't need to look at him to know Sam was watching her, probably with an eyebrow raised.

"Not really in the mood to talk about it," She muttered, turning to the computer screen. She was sure he'd drawn some kind of conclusion based on the incident at the Penny, but she hadn't actually explained any of it to him; she hadn't explained it to anybody.

At that particular moment, Dov returned with their coffee. Andy took the opportunity to enter Luke's paperwork about his latest arrest into the system, initialling it and handing it off to him. He studied the forms, glancing up at her when he read the name, but saying nothing. He turned to the filing cabinets, taking a sip of his coffee, suppressing a grimace. Ten minutes later, Sam left, declaring that they seemed to have everything under control. He told them he'd be back at two, leaving the two rookies alone.

The second he was gone, Dov turned to her, "So how're you doing?"

Andy fought the grimace, "Alright."

"Good. It's just… I feel so guilty…"

"Why should you feel guilty?" She asked.

"Because… well, because it should have been me. I was his rookie. You shouldn't have had to go through this…"

As Andy watched him, she realized that he truly believed his words. He felt _guilty_ about this. He shouldn't feel guilty at all; she was the only one who deserved to live with this guilt.

"Dov… There's no reason for you to feel guilty. You didn't pull that trigger," Andy tried, seeing that she wasn't reaching him, "_Dov_. I'm not going to tell you that this is easy, because it isn't. Going through this is hell, but it's a hell that nobody but me was supposed to go through. It's not your fault."

She found it odd that she was talking about what was meant to be, when she had absolutely no belief in any sort of God or higher power.

"I'm just… so sorry, Andy."

"Don't be," She stated firmly, echoing Sam's earlier words to her, "There was nothing you could do about it."

Any further conversation was cut off by the arrival of two officers dropping off their paperwork. Andy forced a smile on her face, forcing herself not to grimace as they recognized her. She wasn't known throughout the entire precinct or anything, but those who were close to Shaw knew who she was now; she hated the recognition.

She handed the documents off to Dov, and they soon established a rhythm as the time passed. The work was steady, contradicting their earlier assumptions, and two o'clock cam far too soon for her liking. She didn't want to go and watch his grieving widow, his crying children, and think about how if only she'd been a moment sooner…

"Alright, rookies. Let's roll," Jerry came back in, almost succeeding at sounding cheery. Andy's stomach flopped as she signed out of the computer, relinquishing it to the relief officer. She fell into step with Dov again, as Sam and Jerry walked up ahead. Andy had been to plenty of cop funerals with her father, but this was the first she'd go to while in uniform. She tried not to think about it as they got into two separate cars, Dov and Jerry in a detective's SUV, she and Sam in a squad car. She looked out the window the entire drive, focussing on anything but the silence stretching between them. Sam accepted the silence as she did, each lost in their own thoughts.

* * *

The first thing Andy saw when she got out of the car was the woman dressed in all black, sunglasses covering her eyes, several tissues clutched in her hand. Her other hand tightly held the hand of a little girl. Andy knew that this was Michelle Shaw, and the sight of the woman caused her to immediately freeze up. How could she look this woman in the eye and tell her she was sorry for her loss, when she was part of the reason they were here today.

She moved forward not of her own volition, but because Sam's hand on her back pushed her towards the crowd. Beyond Michelle, Andy could see only a sea of uniforms; officers come to pay their respect. There were a handful of people in suits, like Jerry, but there were without a doubt three times their numbers in officers. Andy stepped onto the field where the service was being held, still propelled by Sam's hand; she was sure she would have turned around and run the other way had he not been there. She knew that he knew this, and so he kept his hand firmly against her back, letting it drift from her shoulder to the small of her back. Gradually, its pressure turned from pushing to merely guiding, but when he stopped by Michelle she stepped away. She couldn't face this woman.

"Michelle," He said, his voice low. Andy hadn't ever heard it this solemn or withdrawn before. She bit her bottom lip, looking at the ground.

"S-Sam," She replied, her voice breaking and the tears coming all over again. Without warning, she threw herself on him, wrapping her arms around him. He appeared surprised by this, but returned the gesture gently. "Ollie always… He always talked about you… you and- Jerry!" She cried, releasing Sam and hugging the detective, who appeared about as comfortable with the situation as Sam. Andy couldn't blame them, she would hate it just as much.

Jerry patted her back and said all the right things, soothing her outburst as Dov watched, mesmerized.

"Michelle, this is Dov Epstein. He was Oliver's main rookie," Jerry introduced, once Michelle was sufficiently composed.

"Oh," She said, her tone mournful, with a twinge of something else thrown in.

"Mrs. Shaw, it was… an honour, to work with your husband. He was an amazing man." Dov's words brought a fresh round of tears to the woman's eyes as she hugged him, and Andy knew what was coming next. She tried to back away unnoticed, but Sam saw, as always. Jerry had moved to talk to the little girl, whom he called Callie.

"And this," Sam spoke, grabbing her elbow and dragging her forward, "Is Andy Mc-"

"McNally, yes," Michelle whispered softly, "You look so much like your father. He was Oliver's training officer, back when he first started."

Andy nodded, her throat unexpectedly constricted. She'd expected to feel uncomfortable here, but never had she thought she'd be this emotional.

"Ollie told me about your first day… Talked about what a good kid you were… what good kids all of you were," She paused, and Andy suspected her eyes were tearing up again behind the glasses, "He always had a rookie story when he came home. Amused the hell out of him, the things you guys got into…" She stopped speaking and covered her mouth with her hand, a sob escaping her lips. Andy looked off to the right slightly, watching a spider slowly but deliberately wrapping its prey in a cocoon of silvery web. The poor bug didn't stand a chance.

"He, uh, he was…" Andy faltered, unsure of what to say. No words could express what she wanted to tell this woman standing before her, but she seemed to understand.

"He was," She responded, and without warning, reached out and wrapped her arms around Andy. She tensed, not expecting it, but tentatively circled her arms around the other woman. She could feel the sobs racking Michelle Shaw's body, and turned her eyes skyward to prevent herself from doing the same. She felt incredibly guilty, holding the woman whose husband she'd watched die. She wished she would have done more to help him.

Andy released Michelle and turned to get as far away from her as possible. Dov had now joined Jerry in talking to the kids, Oliver's son having joined the youngest, Callie. Sam stood off to the side, and she knew that he was going to wait for the other two. She stood stiffly beside him, taking little comfort as he squeezed her shoulder lightly.

"Did you know my dad?" A small but strong voice asked. Andy turned to see a teenaged girl standing beside her, her eyes a vibrant green. She tried not to gasp at the similarity. The only difference between her eyes and Oliver's was that hers were ringed lightly in red, and were slightly swollen.

"Yeah, I did," She replied. Sam had since turned around and begun talking to another uniform.

"How well did you know him?" She asked, sceptically.

"He was one of my training officers," Andy replied, shocked at the girl's question. It occurred to her immediately that this girl was much more mature for her age than she should be. If she hadn't known Oliver Shaw, she would have thought it was because of having a cop for a father, but she knew that he was too good of a man to put the job before his children. So, Andy was sure that this maturity was forced, like she felt it was her job to be strong.

The girl nodded, "Most people here just worked with him, passed him in the hallway, talked to him a few times. They're just here to be here."

Her intuition surprised Andy. She doubted anyone would openly admit to coming for the reasons this girl suspected. She wasn't sure what to say next, so she said nothing.

"Aren't you going to tell me you're sorry?" She questioned, tilting her head to study the older woman.

Andy almost squirmed under her penetrating, curious gaze. "I always hated it when people said that to me."

The girl seemed to take that into consideration, nodding slowly, "Me too."

"Allison! Come over here for a second, please," Michelle called, and Allison's eyes glazed over for a moment.

"I have to go," She excused herself, turning and hurrying over to her mother. Andy watched as she joined the small group standing around Michelle. She watched as she held in her tears, put up the front she'd been projecting all day, and offered hugs to funeral goers who were less inclined to hold in their emotions than she.

Andy sensed Sam standing behind her again, watching Allison.

"It's not right; she shouldn't have to be so strong," She murmured.

She knew he was shaking his head, "No, she shouldn't."

"It's going to destroy her…" As Andy spoke, she found herself filled to the brim with compassion and pain for the girl who was trying so hard to be the rock. She remembered when she was that girl, trying to be strong for her father and everyone around her, trying to look as though she could care less that her mother had left them in the middle of the night.

"Michelle won't let it get that far," Sam assured her, although she wasn't completely sure if it was just her that he was trying to assure. Andy had no doubt that Michelle was a good woman, a strong woman. But she'd lost her husband, and that could change a person.

Andy watched as Michelle wrapped her arm around Allison, and the younger girl leaned into her mother's side. Michelle rested her head on top of her daughter's, tears still coursing down her cheeks while Allison's eyes remained bone dry.

Unable to stomach watching the grieving family anymore, Andy turned around quickly. "I hope not."

* * *

When the funeral service started, Andy felt her gut twist. She stood at the back, not feeling comfortable sitting down. Many cops shared her idea, standing in organized rows behind the seats. Sam stood beside her, Jerry beside him. Dov stood on Andy's other side. Even with the mass of uniforms standing in the back, the seats were filled. Andy thought she spotted her father amongst the crowd, but she would investigate that later. For now, the coffin was being carried from the hearse. Andy drew in a shaky breath, more affected by the knowledge that Oliver Shaw's body lay in that coffin than she expected. Nothing about this was as she expected.

As the officers lay the coffin at the front of the crowd, Andy turned to look at Sam and Jerry out of the corner of her eye. Both men were watching, and she knew Jerry would later deny the tears in his eyes. She turned to glance at Dov, and saw that he was blinking furiously as the speeches began.

It started with the priest, giving the holy, religious part of the service, telling those gathered that it was merely Oliver's time to go, and he would be sorely missed. Andy didn't pay much attention to him, lost in her thoughts as she knew everyone else was. Then people started coming up, telling stories and sharing memories of Oliver.

"Oliver was such a kind man. Always willing to lend a helping hand…"

"I remember he always had good advice for me…"

"He always knew what to say…"

"He helped me through some really tough times…"

As the people paraded up to the front, Andy felt overwhelmed at just how many people had known Oliver Shaw. It may just have been random conversations in the hallway, or certain moments at the right times, but Oliver Shaw had been known all throughout the precinct. He was there for anyone, whenever they needed him. Glancing at Sam, she could see the pain in his eyes, and she found herself wanting to reach out to him once more. How many of these funerals he'd sat through, she had no idea. At least five, and now this one made six; it was clear that he never got used to the feeling of putting someone you cared about in the ground, and he shouldn't have to.

She turned back to watch the current speaker, one of Oliver's high school friends. He had some truly amusing stories about him, stories Andy would never have guessed would belong to Oliver Shaw. Sam shifted beside her, and she saw him turn his face to the sky, pretty sure he was trying to keep his poker face. She didn't realize what she was doing until it was done, and there was no turning back. She reached out and grabbed his hand. She meant it to comfort him, and to offer him some sort of strength, not that she had much to offer. He glanced down at her, and she kept her expression smooth, despite the fact that her heart was freshly pounding, afraid he'd take it the wrong way. She glanced at him quickly out of the corner of her eye, but it was enough for their eyes to meet briefly before she looked back at the front. He didn't pull his hand away.

And then Andy was thrown for a loop as her father got up, making his way to the front.

He cleared his throat nervously, unfolding a piece of paper.

"Uh, I'm Tommy McNally. I was Oliver's training officer," He started, pulling at his tie nervously. "When Michelle asked me to speak today… I didn't know what to say. I could tell you that Oliver was a great cop, and that he was ambitious, and that he had the biggest heart, but you all know that. I mean, you knew him, too. But everyone knew a different Oliver Shaw.

"I remember his first day. He shows up with this big, eager smile on his face. He was ready for just about anything, all shiny and new," Her father paused to laugh quietly to himself, "He showed up with his radio on the wrong side."

Andy smiled slightly, looking down; she'd done the exact same thing.

"His first week was probably one of the most entertaining of my career. I watched him fumble through the reality of becoming a cop, and it couldn't have been more hilarious. He might have told you that he never made the classic rookie mistake of sitting on his radio. Well, that's true. He didn't _sit_ on it.

"We were on stakeout and Oliver was in another car. It was lunchtime, and he was eating a burger and talking to his partner, and he must have put his elbow on his radio, because we could hear _everything_. I mean, I thought I knew a lot about that kid before he told me that onions gave him the worst gas and that he ate a chocolate bar before he went home every night to 'amp up the drive'."

There were scattered chuckles in the crowd, and Andy smiled slightly. Dov's cheeks were tinted light pink, as though he were caught in a memory. Sam and Jerry were both grinning.

As her father progressed, admitting other embarrassing things about Oliver's rookie days, including a hazing incident which saw him running into a 'hostage situation' alone. When he realized he had no back-up, he freaked out. The other officers stood outside laughing until he finally clued in. He told of how Oliver was nervous one morning, finally confiding that he planned to propose to his high-school sweetheart, Michelle, later that night. Everyone knew how that had turned out. He also added in Shaw's attempts at deciphering the washing machine, which resulted in him shrinking both his uniforms, making for a very interesting sight when he emerged from the locker room. Gradually, he turned more serious. It felt like he had been up there for a long while, yet it had only been about ten minutes. Most of the speeches were short, but her father's moved nicely through, captivating those who hadn't known him back then.

"You know, I tried my damnedest to make Oliver's life as difficult as possible; it's the T.O.'s job. But he was there for me when no one else really was. He didn't abandon me in one of the hardest times of my life. He, uh, he made me realize the importance of family, of my daughter. About a week ago, Oliver came to me, and told me I needed to get my head screwed on straight, and he was right. As much as he told me that he looked up to me and admired me, I admired him just as much. He was the man I could never manage to be… and I'll always admire him for that, and I'll always be thankful that he made me realize what was right in front of me when I was too blinded to see it for myself."

He stepped down to applause from the crowd, and after a brief moment of eye contact with her father, Andy looked down, blinking furiously. So Shaw was the reason her father had attempted to sober up. Well, not attempted; he had succeeded, up until that one weak moment. The one weak moment he _hadn't_ indulged in. She felt a slight pressure on her hand, and realized that her hand was still clasped in Sam's, and the pressure was him squeezing her hand lightly. She closed her eyes briefly, swallowing the emotion back down.

She didn't know how much time passed before the coffin was being lifted again, carried back through the mourners. Both of their hands tightened at the same time, neither acknowledging it, but both aware. As the coffin disappeared into the hearse, the funeral goers started to disperse. The uniforms filed back into their cars, ready to either go back home, or back on duty, while the suits started toward their own vehicles for the private burial. Jerry turned, stepping out of the line to stand in front of Sam. At this point, Andy realized that they were holding hands and released her grip, causing Sam to realize the exact same thing and mimic her. They pulled their hands back, hoping Jerry hadn't noticed anything; if he did, he didn't say anything.

Andy turned to look at Dov before turning back to the other two, nodding towards the starting cars, "You guys should go. We'll, uh, we'll take the squad car back to the barn."

Sam started to shake his head, but Michelle interrupted whatever he was going to say, walking up to them. "Sam? Jerry? Will you…? Oliver would want…" She couldn't finish her sentence as she began sobbing once more. Andy's heart went out to the woman; no one should have to go through this.

"Go. We're capable of driving," Andy told them both at the looks of uncertainty on their faces. She looked first at Jerry, and then locked eyes with Sam. He studied her for a moment before finally nodding, reaching into his pocket for the keys. He tentatively held them out to her, much like he'd held the keys to his truck when she'd asked for them. She put her hand out, and he laid them slowly in her palm. She closed her fingers around them slowly, pulling her hand back and motioning for Dov to follow her. They bade goodbye to both of them, pausing to hug Michelle once more –much to Andy's discomfort- before making their way towards the squad car.

They met her father briefly along the way, and they had a short conversation, though it was slightly awkward due to the nature of their last encounter. She wasn't entirely comfortable with the way she'd burst into tears in front of him, but it had happened, and you couldn't change the past. Dov waited patiently, and Andy excused herself as soon as possible.

After what felt like an eternity, Andy slid behind the wheel of the squad car, exhaling deeply before twisting the key and throwing the car into drive. The two of them were silent as they headed back to the division.

* * *

**A/N: So, this was so much longer than I thought it would be. I don't really know if I liked the funeral I wrote, but I really didn't know how to do it. So, any thoughts? Like it? Hate it?**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: So here's the update! I'd just like to make a couple of clarifications before you read on (if you read the ANs). I know I called Oliver's wife Michelle, but I called her that like the day before he said Zoe. I was waiting for him to tell me what her name was, and of course the second I decide to just name her, he tells me! I was like Arggg! So I'll leave it as Michelle for this story, since it's got way off the show anyways. Also, for the purposes of this fic, **_**Hot and Bothered**_** didn't happen. Benny didn't even happen. I started it just before that episode aired, and so it'll be continued from the episode before that one. I also don't think Oliver's eyes are green, but I've said green too many times in this fic to go change it haha**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Since she and Dov were free to leave after they returned, Andy took her time in the locker room. She moved at a snail's pace, no longer trying to keep her mind from straying to darker topics.

Seeing the coffin containing Oliver Shaw being placed in the hearse had been a shock. As if seeing the man die hadn't been enough, she'd watched him being shipped off to be lowered into the ground. As morbid as it was, the funeral had been a sort of closure. Until today, it hadn't seemed as though it were real. She could almost pretend that the dead green eyes she saw were a figment of her imagination, but the funeral had closed all the loose ends on that for her.

That wasn't the only shock she'd received today; in fact, she'd received many more than she liked. Seeing Oliver's family in the flesh had been disconcerting, especially his daughter's eyes. They were the exact same shade, the only difference being the only memories she had of them. In her mind, Allison's were sad, pained, but still sparkling with life, while Oliver's were emotionless and dead. She hated that the young girl had to go through such a tragedy at such a young age; she hated that all of his children had to go through this. She remembered the guilt she felt, looking into his daughter's eyes and seeing how much pain she was in, no matter how hard she tried to conceal it. It reminded Andy a little of herself at that age, when her parents started fighting. They'd yell when they thought she was sleeping, but she never was. She lay in bed at night, wide awake and frightened that one morning she'd wake up and one of them would be gone. It happened sooner than she wanted, although her mother leaving hadn't been exactly what she'd thought would happen. She'd figured that one of them would kill the other, to be honest. She also thought that, if her mother had to go, she'd take her with. Andy never thought her mother would abandon her, but she was proven to be very wrong. She was always proven wrong when it came to family matters, and it was this knowledge that had her believing Sam's words. _Michelle won't let it get that far._ She had to believe him, because she would never forgive herself if this was the one time she was right.

Sam was another thing that had shocked her today. She wasn't thinking clearly, acting the way she had. It was reckless and stupid of her. He hadn't rejected it, which was good, but maybe it had been more about not wanting to reject her than him actually being emotionally involved in anything. It was Sam, for God's sake. Sure, she was attracted to him, she'd known that for a long time, but it was one thing to have feelings, and completely another to act on them. That was why she was going to leave that as an isolated incident. She could have done millions of other things to offer him whatever form of comfort she could give, but she'd chosen to grab his hand. Looking back, she wished she hadn't done anything at all. She should have left well enough alone, regardless of how seeing him in obvious pain had made her feel. She shouldn't have even been thinking about it at all.

She sighed aloud, thinking of how confused and messed up her life had become. Before all this, she had known that keeping her very inappropriate feelings for Sam under tight wraps was the best thing to do, but now it was like everything she thought she knew was shattering around her. She couldn't hold herself to anything she'd thought before Oliver died, and that included squashing her traitorous feelings. During the service, she'd started thinking that maybe life was too short to do what was right all the time; Maybe, just maybe, you needed to do what you wanted, regardless of the rules. Of course, she knew that just because he didn't reject her gesture didn't mean he felt anything whatsoever, so for now she would just stay put. She wouldn't do anything foolish like that again. It was too risky to take that chance.

The one good thing that came out of her revelation was that it had rid her of her considerable guilt over breaking up with Luke. She wasn't happy with him, and hadn't been for a long while, but it had taken another's death in order for her to realize it.

She finished dressing in her 'normal clothes' and headed out of the locker room, glancing at the clock and feeling a jolt of surprise when she realized it had taken her forty minutes. Time sure seemed to fly when you were thinking about death…

She laughed out loud emotionlessly at her mind's dark attempt at humour.

"You okay, Andy?"

The feminine voice startled her. She hadn't realized she'd actually laughed out loud until now.

"Yeah, I'm fine," She replied automatically, before turning to see Gail standing just behind her. She hadn't entirely expected it to be Gail who spoke.

The blonde's eyes narrowed slightly, assessing her lie, before deciding to ignore it. "You just come from the funeral?"

"Yeah," Andy nodded, and found herself relieved that Gail's voice held no trace of pity. It was odd, feeling happy to be talking to her.

Gail nodded, seeming to wrestle with herself before deciding against her next statement, instead opting for, "Well, enjoy the rest of your day off."

Andy nodded slowly, turning back around to keep walking in the direction she had been going before Gail spoke again.

"Andy?" She asked in a rush, as though trying to get the words out before she could chicken out again. Andy turned back around. "What's it like?"

She swallowed, hard, before considering the question. It hadn't exactly taken her off guard, but the blatant curiosity mixed in fearful anticipation on Gail's face sure did. Was she afraid of what Andy would say? Was she afraid that one day, if she lost her partner, she wouldn't be able to take it?

No, Andy decided, Gail was tough; she could take pretty much anything. Maybe she feared the answer would be worse than she thought, then?

After a long pause, Andy finally replied, "It's like… It's like nothing I thought I'd ever feel, and there's no way to make it go away. It's hell."

Gail's eyes widened momentarily before she put her hard exterior back in place; she was never weak for more than a split second.

Not waiting, for a reply, Andy turned around once more and left the building, with Gail still standing in the hallway digesting her answer.

* * *

She enjoyed the walk home. The pounding of her feet against the cement beat out a steady rhythm, and she steered her thoughts pointedly away from Oliver and the funeral. She'd thought enough about that for one day. As she walked up to her apartment, Andy felt the weight of exhaustion once more. She barely made it to the couch before she collapsed onto its cushions, falling into a deep sleep almost immediately.

_Sirens in the distance. Too far away. There wasn't enough time. _

_Slumped body. Blood on the floor. Dead green eyes._

_Crying. The sound of crying filled her ears. Where was it coming from?_

_Just behind the fallen Officer Shaw stood Michelle, in her black dress and sunglasses, sobbing uncontrollably. Beside her stood Allison, staring at Andy with those vibrant green eyes and holding the hand of the younger sister. On Michelle's other side was the little boy with the curly hair so like his father's. _

"_Why? Why didn't you help him?" Michelle asked, her voice pleading. "Why didn't you come sooner?"_

"_I-I-" Andy stuttered, unable to come up with the right response._

"_How could you stand there and let him die?"_

"_I- I didn't. I tried."_

"_Not hard enough."_

_Michelle's face was now contorted with rage as she glared at Andy._

"_Are you a cop?" The little girl, Callie, asked, staring innocently up at her._

"_Not a very good one," Allison scoffed._

_All four members of his family glared at her, her eyes shooting between Oliver and his family, bewildered. How did they get here?_

_Bang! Bang!_

Andy jerked upright, panting. What the hell was that? Glancing at the clock, she saw that it had only been an hour. Some deep sleep that was.

Shrinking back into the couch, Andy's eyes surveyed the room, falling on the still unopened bottle on the table. She remembered a conversation she'd once had with her father about his drinking, wondering why he felt like he needed it so goddamned much.

"_Because it makes everything go away. I can forget for a little while. Just pass out and have a dreamless sleep. It gives me peace."_

Wasn't that all she wanted? It would only be the once, just to get a sound sleep. It's not like it would become a habit or anything. She wasn't that stupid. She'd seen what it did to her father, and she wouldn't let it happen to her. No, it would just be this one time, and then she'd stop. It wasn't that she was weak; it was that she wanted not to be plagued by nightmares every time she closed her eyes. It was okay if she wasn't doing it because she needed to, right?

Right. It was perfectly fine to reach over, just like she was, grab the bottle, and bring it back to set it on her lap. It was alright to twist the cap off and smell the alcohol wafting up to her nose. It wasn't stupid or reckless to take a swig of the whiskey, and revel in the burn as it went down her throat. This didn't make her weak. It made her pragmatic. Why waste perfectly good alcohol when she could use it and get something good in return?

She took another swig, wincing as it burned her throat once more. She wasn't doing anything wrong. She wasn't being reckless; she was done with reckless. She was just… self-medicating.

She laughed bitterly to herself. Yes, she was self-medicating, because she refused to see a doctor or a shrink. She had no interest in having people poke and prod her and tell her how messed up she really was; she already knew. She was self-medicating because she took care of herself; she couldn't trust anyone else to do it.

The burn was cleansing; she understood her father more and more with every gulp. She stopped wincing after the fourth drink, instead anticipating the alcohol and welcoming its burn. After a quarter of the bottle was gone, her mind wasn't blank, and so she kept drinking, hoping the blackness would come soon. She didn't want to drink the entire bottle, but she would if that's what it took.

Soon the whiskey had no taste at all, but she still didn't stop. She wouldn't stop until she closed her eyes without seeing green ones reflected back.

* * *

**A/N: So it's shorter than the last few, but I wanted to end it there. I'll try to update soon!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Here's the next chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Andy was about to raise the bottle to her lips once more when a knock on her door interrupted her. She frowned; she hadn't let anyone up.

She rose from the couch, setting the bottle back on the coffee table with a clank. As she adjusted to the new height, she swayed slightly, and realized she may be more affected by the alcohol than she thought. It didn't matter how affected her ability to stand was, though, because her mind was still racing with images and words that she wished would go away.

She shuffled to the door, not noticing a whole lot of difference in her step. Hopefully whoever it was wouldn't know that she'd had a little to drink. She'd get rid of them quickly.

However, when she pulled back the door, she knew that was easier said than done. She stared dumbly at him for a moment. Her words were no more intelligent.

"Sam," She blinked. "Hi."

His eyebrows pulled together slightly as he took her in, his mouth forming the word, "Hi," back very slowly.

She stood staring at him for longer than she should have, realizing belatedly that she should let him in. She stood back slightly, concentrating on her feet so she didn't stumble and give her intoxication away. Instead of speaking again, she waved her arm into her apartment. He stepped inside, still frowning slightly.

When he said nothing, Andy decided he was probably waiting for her to speak first. "What are you doing here?" she asked, thinking that she probably could have asked the question more eloquently.

"I came to check up on you…" He trailed off, turning back around to look at her, "Have you been drinking?"

She tilted her head to one side, not bothering to mention that he could have just called. "No. Well…maybe just a little," she replied, holding up her fingers to indicate a small amount.

Sam sighed, nodding in understanding while biting the inside of his cheek. "What happened to not drinking?"

Andy shrugged nonchalantly. "It was just sitting there."

"So you just… had to drink it?"

She nodded, the alcohol telling her it was a good idea to be honest.

He ran a hand through his hair and walked over to her coffee table, snatching up the bottle.

"What are you doing?" She asked, suddenly panicked. He wasn't going to get rid of it, was he?

He tore down the paper, looking through the glass. Obviously her weight perception was wrong. There was only a third of the bottle left, not just over half, like she'd thought. She fought to keep a clear head. She couldn't let the fuzziness overtake her; she wasn't that drunk… She wasn't drunk at all, was she?

After pondering that for a moment longer than necessary, she decided that it didn't matter anyways. She may be a little tipsy, but she still wasn't forgetting, and that was the whole point. Sam set the bottle back on the table with a considerably quieter clank than she had, and looked back up at her.

"You drank all of that?" He asked.

She nodded again.

"Why?" He asked.

She rolled her eyes, "You already asked me that." She frowned suddenly, "Well, kind of. Same question really. You want anything to drink?" She pointed her thumbs behind her to the kitchen, trying not to let her body follow her hands.

Sam shook his head, "Naw. I think you've had enough for both of us."

"I haven't had that much, really. I'm fine, Sam."

"Sure you are." He pressed his lips together, and she could tell he didn't believe her. But he was wrong, she was totally fine. Right?

She approached him, studying the way his eyes took her in, the way his pupils were dilated ever so slightly. She laughed, "You're one to talk."

He gave her a confused look.

"You've been drinking, too," she pointed out, crossing her arms and stopping just in front of him.

"I have," He conceded, only to continue and wipe the semi-triumphant look off her face, "The difference being that I stopped at two. You drank two-thirds of a bottle of whiskey."

"What are you saying?" She asked, her mind too bogged down to process his words.

"I'm saying that you drank way more than me, McNally. Our situations are a little different."

She scoffed, "Whatever. I told you I'm fine."

She took a step back, turning to look over at the television to avoid his eyes and swaying slightly.

"You sure about that?" He asked, his eyebrow rising slightly.

"Yes," She stated stubbornly, even though she wasn't completely sure anymore. She collapsed down to the couch, patting the cushion beside her, "Have a seat."

Sam lowered himself onto her couch, leaning back and exhaling loudly. She glanced at him quickly, and could see the weariness in his eyes. It had been a long day for both of them, and it wasn't over yet. She may have watched her temporary partner being loaded into a hearse, but he'd watched one of his best friends being lowered into the ground.

"I'm sorry," She whispered into the silence that had engulfed them.

He glanced over at her. "What are you sorry about?"

"Letting him die."

"What the hell are you sorry about that for? Like I said before, nothing you could have done."

"Yes, there was," She took a deep, shaky breath, continuing before he could protest, "I hesitated. When I heard the shots, I froze up, and I hesitated. If I hadn't, I would have been there faster, and he wouldn't have died."

Sam turned to face her, neither of them caring that they'd had this conversation before. "That little bit of time wouldn't have made a difference."

She looked away, unable to watch the disappointment seep into his gaze once she divulged the nail in Oliver's coffin. "But it would have. He died seconds before the paramedics got inside. Those seconds were the seconds I hesitated. He would have lived."

"Those seconds meant nothing. He would have died anyways, because that's just how it is. No amount of alcohol is going to change that. And it still doesn't explain why you're apologizing to me."

"You were close to him. I'm apologizing because I was responsible for his death, or at least partly responsible. I took him from you. I took him from his family. And so: I'm sorry."

She could sense he was getting frustrated without even looking at him. "How many times do I have to tell you it wasn't your fault? Maybe you just need some time for it to sink in, but you're going to realize you couldn't have done anything more to keep him alive than you already did, Andy."

She sat in silence, digesting his words and the use of her first name. He'd never called her Andy before. Her eyes were shifting in and out of focus, and she had to lean back on the couch to steady the spinning world.

"I have nightmares," she blurted out, unable to keep the words in. Damn liquor.

Sam said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

"Every time I close my eyes, I can see him staring back at me, dead. I can hear the gunshots. I can see his face. I can't sleep at night because every time I close my eyes I have a different dream, and they always end the same," she whispered, as though she were afraid to speak any louder. "I just want it all to go away."

The only sound in the room was their intermittent breathing, and Andy wondered if Sam was going to say anything at all. Maybe he'd fallen asleep on her.

After a moment more, Andy felt something warm encase her fingers. She looked down to see Sam's hand twisting around hers where it lay on the couch between them, fitting together perfectly. She glanced up at him for a split second, then away, not wanting him to second guess his action. She liked the feeling of his hand holding hers, but knew that she shouldn't. It was wrong, but she felt better, knowing he was there. She felt reassured, in a strange way.

"God," she scoffed, still whispering as she felt her eyes well up again, "I'm so messed up."

She thought she caught the corner of his lips twitch briefly out of the corner of her eye, but she couldn't be sure. "We all are, Andy."

Her heart almost fluttered at the name change, but she couldn't quite let herself be happy about it.

"So are you going to drink the rest of that?" He asked, and she knew he was talking about the whiskey.

She eyed it, still sitting on the table in front of them. It hadn't helped yet, but there was a good chance it might if she finished it off. Of course, there was always the chance it wouldn't. "I don't know yet."

"Want me to wait until you do?"

She wasn't sure what she expected, but it certainly wasn't this. She felt the tears she'd just fought back returning, and wouldn't let herself speak. The offer alone was enough to make her want to break down. In her life, she was always the only one she could count on; there was no one there to have her back, or ask her how she was feeling. It felt… relieving, to finally be able to let go. She'd waited around her entire life for someone to give a damn, and now here he was. She was afraid to open her mouth, lest all of this come out; she wouldn't put it past her intoxicated self. Instead, she said nothing in reply, only nodding her head, and they sat in silence for a long while, making no contact except their hands, which remained –fingers loosely intertwined- between them on the couch.

* * *

Andy opened her eyes groggily to the sensation of being laid down on something much softer than the couch.

"Sam?" She asked, her voice hoarse and disoriented.

"Sorry, I tried not to disturb you."

"Oh," She replied, not sure of what else to say. Her vision had stopped swimming, which she took as a good sign. She was starting to sober up, but she had a feeling she'd get a killer hangover tomorrow. "How long was I out?"

"About half an hour," he replied, standing to the side of her bed, "Your neck looked like it would hurt in the morning if I left it like it was."

She nodded, her mind gradually clearing itself of the cobwebs. She was still drowsy, and wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep, yet she was afraid to.

"I should go," he stated into the silence, clearing his throat quietly. "Night, Andy."

He turned to leave, but only made it a step before her hand reached out and caught his wrist. Her voice was so small when she spoke that she almost couldn't believe it was hers, "Wait."

He turned his head back to look at her, his eyes expectant.

"Would you- Can you- Will- Will you stay?" She asked, her voice still small and her stomach twisting angrily and nervously at her request. There she went again with the acting before thinking thing.

He stared at her for a long time before slowly shaking his head, "I don't think that's a very good idea."

He tried to pull his hand away, but she tightened her grip slightly. "Just for a little bit. Please?"

It was very unlike her to talk like this, and she wanted nothing more than to blame it on the liquor, but it was gradually leaving her system, and she was definitely more in control than she'd been yet tonight. What the hell was wrong with her? Andy McNally didn't act like this; she wasn't so dependent on one person.

After a lengthy pause, he finally nodded, and she scooted over under the covers so he could sit or lay or whatever he wanted to do on the side of the bed closest to the door, because she didn't expect him to still be there in the morning. She knew he'd leave after an hour at the most, because that's just how it was.

He sat on top of the blankets, leaning against the headboard as she snuggled deeper underneath the quilt.

"Thank you," she mumbled, already half asleep. She didn't notice that she hadn't let go of his wrist, and he said nothing as he watched her drift off into her first peaceful sleep that week.

* * *

**A/N; So it's still shorter than the last few, but I'll try to make them longer! Like it? Hate it? I live for reviews!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: So here's the update, I'm aiming for only a couple more chapters. Maybe an epilogue!**

**And, like the Michelle thing, Boyko is still the staff sergeant in this fic, since the whole Best thing didn't happen, either. **

* * *

**Chapter 12**

Andy's eyelids fluttered open to the bright morning light filling her room. She grimaced as her eyes adjusted to the change and surveyed her surroundings. She frowned when she realized she was lying on the side of the bed closest to the window, not the door –as she usually did. Why was that?

She was further confused as she slid across the empty half of the bed, spotting a glass of water and two aspirin sitting on her bedside table. Why had she done that?

She popped the aspirin into her mouth, taking a gulp of water to swallow them, soothing her suddenly pulsing head. Sitting up hadn't been good for her, and she made a mental note to stop drinking in such excess. The morning after wasn't worth it. She'd had way worse, but that didn't mean she enjoyed this more. She held a hand to her forehead, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Wait. She was drinking last night. An onslaught of memories from the previous day assaulted her. The funeral, the whiskey, Sam. She blinked, still perched with her feet hanging off the side of the bed, trying to remember when he'd gone home last night. He had gone home, hadn't he? He clearly wasn't here. Frustrated, Andy forced her mind to push through the fog and focus on the moments before she fell asleep. She was definitely not drinking like this anymore. She glanced down at herself; she was still wearing her tank top and sweats from last night, which she took to be a good sign. Wait, what was she thinking? She started to shake her head to clear it, immediately regretting the motion.

She attempted to stand, and found it easier than expected. With the change of height came a sudden recollection of Sam sitting beside her as she fell asleep. She breathed a sigh of relief that it was only _that_, and proceeded to the bathroom. She turned on the hot water and stripped off her wrinkled clothing, stepping under the soothing jets. She felt relaxed for the first time in a while, and took her time in the shower. As ashamed as she was to admit it, she was a little disappointed that he'd left, even though she knew it wouldn't have been appropriate any other way. He was her training officer.

Once she felt sufficiently clean, she wrapped herself in a towel and stepped back out to get dressed. It was then that she smelt the strange scents wafting in to her. She could also hear faint clanging noises coming from somewhere outside. Frowning, she dressed quickly and left the bathroom, heading for the kitchen. She stopped short at the corner, trying to take in the sight before her.

"Sam? What are doing?" She asked, blinking twice to make sure her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. Sam Swarek stood at her stove, mixing something in a frying pan, and it smelled _good_.

He turned, flashing her a lopsided grin, "Finally decided to get up, eh?"

He left whatever was in the pan to simmer while he moved over to her coffeepot and poured some into a mug, manoeuvring through her kitchen like he lived there, much like the first time he'd been there. He placed the mug on the counter, and she moved toward it eagerly, unable to disguise her need for caffeine. She thought she caught a hint of a chuckle from him, but it was impossible to tell. She sipped the steaming hot coffee, still coming to terms with the fact that he was still in her apartment.

"Um, thanks," she said, motioning to the coffee, even though he couldn't see her.

"No problem," he replied, and she knew he understood her meaning. "How'd you sleep?"

"Actually, really good. No nightmares," she grimaced at the last sentence, taking another sip of coffee.

"Good," he began, and then must have decided that answer was too serious for him, because he continued, "I tend to have that effect on women."

Andy rolled her eyes, knowing he was joking, but had to turn around to survey the rest of the apartment in order to hide the blush that she fought. God, she was terrible.

"So what, are you some kind of chef or something?" She asked, when she was sure she had her emotions under control.

"Or something," he clarified, stirring his concoction as he spoke, "Spending eight months undercover gives you lots of time to experiment."

She nodded, knowing full well he still couldn't see her. "So you get any good at it?"

She sensed he was smiling as he answered, "You'll have to try it and find out."

She bit her lip and smiled as she turned back around, staring at the mug encased in her fingers. She'd set it on the counter to avoid burning her hands. "Should I be worried? I mean, it could be poisonous."

He scoffed lightly, still facing the stove as he spoke in a considerably lower volume than before, "It'll be fine. Trust me, McNally."

This time, when he said those two little words, the ones she'd told herself she'd never, ever let herself give in to, she found herself melting just a little bit. _Trust me._ Right now, she was starting to think she could.

* * *

After breakfast, which was indeed delicious, he gave her a ride to the station, arriving on time for their late-morning shift. She smiled to herself as she changed into her uniform. By unspoken agreement, last night had been filed away under the 'disregard' pile for now, though both of them would undoubtedly pull the memories back out to re-examine them when they were alone.

"Wow, on time again. You're on a roll, girl," Traci exclaimed as she came into the locker room. Dov -whom Andy assumed had been walking with her- continued on to the men's room just down the hall.

Andy grinned, though it didn't reach her eyes; most of her grins or smiles didn't reach her eyes this week. That, coupled with the fact that her head was still a little fuzzy from the hangover, and she was amazing she'd managed to tug her lips up at all. The aspirin had helped, but she'd need more throughout the day. Usually her hangovers went away rather quickly, and she thanked whatever was out there for that.

"Though, I can see why," Her friend continued, and Andy frowned to herself as the placed her folded shirt inside her locker. "What with Swarek giving you a ride and all."

She halted in her movements, eyes widening slightly at being caught. She whirled to face Traci, taking in the somewhat smug yet accusing look on her face. "What are you talking about?"

Traci snorted, "We've been friends long enough for me to know you're a terrible liar. I saw you two getting in his truck this morning. Looked kind of like a walk of shame to me…"

"It wasn't like that," Andy protested, knowing she was going to have to talk fast to prevent Traci from getting the completely wrong idea.

"Oh, come on. Truck parked out front, him in yesterday's clothes, both of you laughing and joking around. I know the morning after when I see it," The other woman challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"No, Trace, that wasn't what it was. He was just checking up on me," She tried, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"Checking up on you?" Traci asked, her voice radiating disbelief, "That's what you're calling it?"

"Traci, that's all it was. He just came by after the burial to see how I was doing."

"And that explains why he was still there this morning?" She asked, and Andy's heart sank at her slip up.

"Yes. No. Look, nothing happened," She tried, pausing in her next line of speech as other women began entering the locker room. "I'll explain more later, okay?"

Traci looked as though she wanted to protest, but the sight of Gail stopped her short. Instead, both of them turned back to putting their clothes away, halting all conversation. They ignored the various looks they were thrown by the other officers, and exited the room quickly, meeting up with Chris and Dov in the hallway, arguing.

"No, I swear it was the same!" Dov exclaimed, his hands chopping the air to accentuate his point.

"He wears shirts like that all the time. There's no way to know that. And who cares anyways?" Chris asked, rolling his eyes.

"Why are you guys talking about male clothing?" Andy asked, frowning as they stopped beside them.

Their faces turned immediately red, embarrassed at having been caught in the middle of whatever it was.

"No reason," Chris replied, looking anywhere but at her, his voice attempting and failing at being casual.

"Right," Andy said, her voice sceptical as she crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow and glancing between the two of them.

"Okay! We were trying to figure out if Swarek was wearing the same shirt today as he was yesterday…" Dov answered, looking down as well, ashamed of both his answer and his cracking under minimal pressure.

Andy controlled her primary response of shock, settling for saying, "Why do you _care_? And who was it that even noticed this in the first place? Should we be worried?"

Dov's face continued to grow redder by the second, and both men stayed silent. Sam took this opportunity to walk past the foursome with Jerry, nodding at Andy as he passed. She smiled back tightly, turning her attention back to the other three.

"Okay, what's going on with you and Swarek?" Dov asked, unable to contain himself.

Andy felt her back stiffen at the blatant question. "Where did that come from?"

"Well, he was wearing the same shirt-"

"Allegedly," Chris chimed in, as though that made it better.

"And Traci mentioned that she saw him giving you a ride this morning… And just now…" Dov trailed off, staring at his feet again.

"Just now what?" Andy challenged, staring him down.

"Well… you know…"

"No, I really don't, Dov. Why don't you enlighten me?"

"Well you watched him as he walked past…"

"You don't watch people as they walk by? You don't acknowledge people you know?"

"Ok, jeez. Chill out, Andy," Dov said, holding his hands up in surrender, "But you can't deny what happened at the funeral."

"What?" Andy asked, her tone bordering on dangerous.

Dov looked frightened again, but swallowed his fear and held his head high as he told her, "I'm not blind, you know. I could see what was going on."

"Dov-" She started to say, but was interrupted by Noelle emerging from the locker room.

"Let's go, rookies! Time for gossip's over."

Andy breathed a small sigh of relief at the end of her interrogation session, the first of the four to head out for the parade room. In order to avoid more questions from Traci, Andy found herself walking quickly, and soon she caught up with Gail.

"Morning," She greeted the blonde, keeping her brisk pace. She knew none of the others –except Chirs, but he didn't seem to care as much as the others- would have any desire to catch up to her now.

Gail looked mildly surprised, but returned the greeting none the less. The two walked in silence to the parade room, and Andy surprised both of them when she took the seat next to Gail, instead of her usual spot beside Traci. The other three looked just as surprised, but sat quickly when Boyko entered the room. His speech was brief, and he got straight to the point of assigning Traci, Dov, and Chris to the streets, putting Gail and Andy on the desk. It was weird to feel so relieved to be on desk duty with _Gail_. The two had always had a healthy dislike for each other, both being the offspring of cops they'd felt a certain amount of competition with each other. Andy had won the competition in the Academy, placing second in the ranks behind the walking manual that was Chris, but Gail was definitely surpassing her in the field. She was calm, cool, collected, and her instincts were exactly as they should be; _she_ hadn't lost a partner.

The sound of scraping chairs brought her back to attention, and she realized everyone was leaving. She hurried to catch up with Gail, who was already on her way to the desk. She stayed a pace behind her the entire walk, unsure if the blonde wanted any kind of proximity with her.

The day dragged on, neither woman speaking much, each lost in their own thoughts. Andy could never tell what went on in Gail's mind, but she knew she was seriously conflicted; she was too, when she first entered the Academy. She felt the pressure of expectations weighing down on her; it felt like, because she was descended from a cop, she must have something in her genes that made her exceptional at it. She knew that Gail had to have gone through the same thing, but probably ten times worse. She had a brother who was a detective, a father who was a staff sergeant at another division, and a godfather that was the chief. It was no secret that the entire Peck family would one day wear white shirts. Andy's own father had left his profession having been forced out under a cloud of suspicion and secrecy. She could only imagine the pressure Gail was under to be perfect, what with model family members. Andy's own disgraceful legacy left it open for her to tank without too much disappointment.

The end of shift came after what felt like years, and Andy realized she hadn't spent as much time dwelling on Shaw's death as she usually did. She was surprised, and felt a little guilty, to realize this. She hoped as time went on she would eventually come to terms with it –at least according to Sam, and he hadn't been wrong yet- but she didn't think it would start happening so soon. Was she that heartless? Was she really on the fast track to becoming emotionless and uncaring?

"So," The voice startled her out of her thoughts, and Andy realized she hadn't even heard Traci come in.

"So," Andy replied, turning back to her locker quickly.

"Don't give me that. What's going on with you and…" She leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering her voice, "_Swarek_."

Andy rolled her eyes, tired of it already. "Nothing's going on. I got drunk, he came to check on me, we talked, I fell asleep. That's it."

"That's it? Seriously?" Traci asked, sounding very disappointed.

Andy nodded, trying to convince herself as well as Traci that it was really that simple.

"That still doesn't explain why you were both coming from your apartment this morning, with the same clothes."

Andy sighed, closing her locker a little more forcefully than needed. "Okay, so maybe before I fell asleep I asked him to stay and maybe he did."

Traci's face turned from disheartened to excited in a split second. "So there _is_ something going on! I knew it!"

"No, there's still nothing going on. Wait, why did you think there was something going on?" Andy asked, turning to look at her friend as they left the room.

"Oh, come on, Andy. Everyone can see _something_."

"What?" Andy yelped, petrified of the implications of that. What the hell was everyone seeing?

"You seriously don't see anything? You don't see how he's always looking out for you?"

"Because I'm his rookie. It's his job."

Traci shook her head, "Nuh-uh. His job does _not_ extend to staying at your apartment."

Andy was unsure of how to reply to that; it was true.

"You don't see how he's so concerned for you?" Traci asked, stopping in front of Andy to stop her from walking.

"Yeah, because my partner was killed! That's the only reason he's doing any of this."

Traci pursed her lips, "You keep telling yourself that."

"I will."

Traci glanced over Andy's shoulder at something, and then smiled. "Well, I'll see you later."

Andy frowned in confusion, watching Traci make a hasty retreat. "Traci?"

She rolled her eyes, sighing and throwing her hands in the air.

"How's your head?" A voice behind her made her jump for the second time today.

She turned, her hands switching from surrender to a defensive position, palms facing outwards, even in height with her shoulders, and pulled back into her body.

"God, Sam, you scared me," She exclaimed, understanding why Traci had left so quickly.

He grinned, "You scare too easily, McNally."

"I do not," She protested, conceding at the look on his face, "I'm just a little more jumpy than usual…" She trailed off as she realized why that was.

Sam stayed silent, glancing down as he realized what she had.

"But it's really your fault," She spoke into the silence, her tone a lot lighter than the current mood.

"Really," He stated, eyebrow raising as curiosity and humour coated his voice, "How's that?"

Andy grinned slightly. "You should know better than to sneak up on people."

He chuckled quietly, "Right. Sorry. I'll try to stomp louder next time. Maybe wave my wands over my head and yodel?"

She giggled -a very un-Andy sound- at the image that created in her mind.

The tension in the air lifted, and he indicated his truck. "You need a ride?"

Still smiling, she nodded.

They walked at a leisurely pace. She liked how he made he feel at ease, like nothing was wrong in the world. Like Oliver Shaw wasn't lying in a coffin under six feet of dirt, and his wife and children weren't grieving for the loss of their husband and father. Like the past week hadn't happened at all. She could almost pretend that he'd come over last night for less innocent reasons than checking up on her, and the memories of the previous night brought a sudden question to mind.

"Hey," she started, turning to face him as they approached their separate sides of the truck, "How did you get in last night?"

Sam smirked as he opened his door and climbed in. "Gina let me up."

Andy rolled her eyes, smiling slightly, "Of course she did."

* * *

After a ride filled with light chatter about Dov's latest adventure –involving responding to a gay bar assault complaint, which Sam generously let him handle on his own- Sam stopped the vehicle in front of the apartment building. An almost awkward silence engulfed them, each waiting for the other to speak.

"Did you, uh, want to come up?" Andy asked quietly, unsure if she was supposed to offer. Once the words were out, she regretted them. She didn't want him getting the wrong impression or thinking she'd gotten the wrong impression.

Sam shook his head after a pause, "I should probably go."

She nodded, knowing it was best, and slid out of the truck. "See you tomorrow."

He nodded, "Yeah, see you, Andy."

Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of it, although she instantly berated herself for it.

Andy slipped beneath the covers when she finally made it up to her apartment, welcoming sleep. After last night's exhaustive slumber, she hoped the nightmares would stay away. She should have known better.

* * *

_Blood. Green eyes. Teary faces. Bang! Bang!_

Andy jerked awake, drenched in cold sweat and breathing heavily. Dammit. She threw the covers back, padding into the kitchen for some water when she spotted the remaining whiskey on the counter; Sam must have moved it there. She studied it for a while, contemplating her options. She could drink it, and hope it worked. If he didn't have much alcohol to work with, he usually popped a few pills to put himself over the edge. The drugstore around the block was open twenty-four hours. She could always grab some… Sam had said sleeping pills didn't work, but obviously they did when paired with booze.

Maybe that had been her problem last night. She wasn't forgetting because she hadn't had the right cocktail. Maybe she needed the pills to make it work. Although, she slept through the night last night with just the alcohol, so maybe she could do it again? The lesser amount in the bottle tonight would probably make for a more manageable hangover tomorrow. She could hide it pretty well, and she'd get some sleep. But there was no guarantee the nightmares would stay away. They didn't when she was awake.

Andy tried to puzzle out the difference between the time she was asleep and the time she was awake, and finally realized the key difference: Sam. When Sam was there, she'd forgotten about Shaw. Whenever Sam was around, she always forgot about everything; he chased away her demons, leaving her to sleep peacefully. This revelation left her panicked and afraid. How did she become so dependent on him? When did she start to feel like he was the only one who could make her forget? He did what two-thirds of a bottle of whiskey couldn't. All her life she'd been against trusting people, against letting them in, and yet here he was, the one person she talked to. Sam was the only person she'd told about the nightmares, and he was the only one who really knew how much of a mess she was. Sure, she'd broken down in front of her father, but in her mind, he didn't count. Sam was an outsider; one of the people she wasn't supposed to be vulnerable in front of. Last night she'd broken some of her most highly regarded rules, and this morning, with the whole trust comment, she had a feeling she'd broken her cardinal one. She didn't trust people; she didn't let her guard down in front of them, and she sure as hell didn't ask them to stay the night because she was afraid of the monster hiding in her dreams.

As always, the nightmares threw Andy into inner turmoil. She doubted everything she thought she knew, and everything she felt. She hated being so weak to these hellish dreams; she hated that they drove her to seek comfort in another person –something she _didn't_ do; she hated that they drove her to the point of considering whether the alcohol would be better with, or without, the sleeping pills.

Andy shook herself; what was she thinking? Sleeping pills and whiskey? Did she want to commit suicide?

Making her decision, she grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the counter and dumped it down the sink. She couldn't risk the temptation.

* * *

**A/N: So there's your update, and for once, I got to exactly where I wanted! Go me! Reviews are awesome! I've only had one hangover in my life, and it was about a year ago so I don't remember much, so some things may not be accurate, but I tried!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: So here's the next chapter. I probably won't update for a while. I was trying to finish before moving up to my university campus… but I failed. So instead I'll try to update ASAP. Not sure when that will be though.**

* * *

**Chapter 13**

The subsequent days were filled with boredom, nightmares, and more guilt. Andy woke every few hours from visions of blood, crying, and dead green eyes, but it wasn't as bad as it had been those first few days. She looked much less exhausted and finally, a week and a half after the shooting, Andy was allowed to get back in the field.

"Finally!" She exclaimed as she walked with Traci out of the parade room, "I thought I'd be on the desk forever."

Traci smiled, "Yeah, unfortunately that means _I'm_ on the desk."

She grinned, "I think you can handle it."

Traci shrugged as Dov fell into step with them. He was riding the desk with Traci today, while Gail and Chris got to go out together. Andy was grateful that she got to patrol with Sam. She felt like she was behind the other rookies after her week of desk work, and knew he wouldn't get on her ass too much if she wasn't exactly herself.

"Hey did I tell you-" Traci started only to be cut off by Sam.

"McNally! Let's go!"

Andy whirled on her heel, bidding Traci a quick goodbye and scurrying off after Sam; he made no effort to allow her to catch up.

She slid into the patrol car's passenger seat after throwing the bag in the back, as always. They were silent as Sam manoeuvred car 1519 out of the lot, making a right and cruising through traffic.

"So, how you doing so far?" He asked about ten minutes into the drive.

"Great," She answered, smiling tightly and returning to looking out the window. Truth be told, she wasn't great. She was lost in thought about the last times she sat in this position. The last time she'd sat here, they were going the Oliver's funeral. The second last time she sat in this position, she was coming back from his death. The third last time, they'd been heading straight for it.

"_This is dispatch reporting shots fired at the Toronto Youth Community Centre on the four hundred block of MacLeod." _

"_This is 1509 responding and requesting back-up."_

A shiver ran down her spine and she had to work to keep from showing the physical signs of it. Sam braked for a red light.

_The car lurched to a stop outside the community centre, and Shaw wasted no time drawing his gun and making for the door._

"_On your toes, McNally. There are kids in there. Let's go."_

_She wanted to tell him to wait for back-up, but knew from experience that he wouldn't._

_And so she drew her gun and followed him in._

She blinked, trying to clear her head. She couldn't afford to be distracted right now.

"How you sleeping these days?" Sam asked. It had been a while since they'd had time to speak to each other, much less have a serious conversation.

She shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

"_How's your father doing these days?"_

"Alright," She shrugged, and then added, "I've slept better," because she knew he wasn't convinced.

"_Alright. He's been better."_

She shook her head slightly, not realizing that Sam was looking at her.

"You okay, McNally?"

She glanced over at him, startled. "Y-Yeah. I'm fine."

He raised his eyebrows, saying nothing, and yet she knew that he was waiting for the _real_ answer.

"It's nothing," Andy stated firmly, turning to stare straight out through the windshield. Sam let it go, pressing down on the gas once more as Andy tried to keep her mind firmly in the present.

* * *

They stopped for lunch about three hours later, and then it was back on the streets. Andy sighed as she leaned her head against the window.

"Bored?" Sam asked, steering with only one hand on the top of the wheel.

"How'd you figure that one out?" She asked sarcastically.

He smirked back, "I'm psychic."

Andy rolled her eyes, laughing, as she turned back to the window.

"Seriously, McNally, I have the gift. You better protect your thoughts from now on."

She turned back to him, still grinning, "Oh really."

"Yeah," He confirmed, nodding his head along with his answer.

"Then tell me, oh great one, what am I thinking right now?"

Sam pursed his lips, considering for a moment. "You're thinking… I'm ridiculous."

Andy paused before answering, "Not even close. Athough you _are_ ridiculous."

Sam frowned, "You know, I'd rather you think I'm ridiculous than think I'm a psychic freak. That's why I wasn't even close."

Andy scoffed, "Right. You just don't want your man pride getting hurt because you were wrong."

"Man pride? What the hell is man pride?"

"You don't know what man pride is?"

"Should I?"

"You're a _man_," Andy pointed out.

"Thanks for noticing," He replied, grinning broadly, as though he were proud.

She supressed a light laugh at the dopey expression on his face, looking down at her hands instead.

"So… You going to tell me what this 'man pride' is?" He finally asked, after it became clear she wasn't going to explain it.

Andy rolled her eyes, "It's your ego."

"Oh. Why didn't you just say that?"

"Because I didn't? I figured everyone knew they were interchangeable."

"Well you were wrong. I've never heard of that before."

"Yeah, it seems I found the one guy who's out of the loop," She teased.

"I'm not out of the loop if there's no loop to begin with. Maybe _you're_ the one who's out of the loop," He contested, keeping his eyes on the road.

Her response to that was cut off by static from the radio.

"This is dispatch. We're reporting a possible break and enter off the corner of 1st and Montague. Building number 657. Closest unit please respond."

Andy glanced at the nearest street sign; they were only three blocks away. Sam glanced over at her after checking for himself.

"You want to take it?" He asked her.

She nodded, "Why wouldn't I?"

He said nothing, only flicked on the sirens and answered the call.

"Be advised, suspect is believed to be armed."

"_Be advised, suspect is armed and considered dangerous."_

Andy ground her teeth together as Sam double-parked the car. She really needed to get a grip.

* * *

**A/N: Ok, so the need to update before I don't know when I'll be able to is much stronger than the want to finish writing this chapter. I definitely wanted this to be a longer entry, but I really need to go to sleep, so I'll post this now and hopefully get another update up in a bit. I'm so sad because I won't get to watch this week's episode! I'll have to wait until they ge tit online before I can see it, and this one looks SO good! **

**Anyways, reviews would be great and I hope you liked it!**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N; So it's the night before my classes start so my updates are probably going to be even later. I really tried to finish this before school started. It just didn't happen…**

* * *

**Chapter 14**

It took Andy a moment to realize that Sam was already halfway around the car and heading for the building before she opened her door. He didn't look back, already focussed on the task at hand.

_Shaw headed into the building before her, sweeping his gun around the small room they entered._

She caught up to Sam easily, surveying the building as they approached the door. He placed a hand on his gun, but left it holstered. She did the same. Her heart clenched in anticipation as he twisted the doorknob to the discount store. Before she could stop herself, Andy wondered why anyone would want to break into a discount store, and she pressed her lips together to keep from smiling before switching her mind back into work mode.

The door creaked open and Sam poked his head in to take a quick inventory of the room before taking a cautious step forward.

"Hello? Police!" He called into the darkness.

"_Police!" Oliver shouted into the large space, his words echoing through the gymnasium._

He stepped further into the building when he got no reply, and Andy let out the breath she didn't know she was holding as no noises rang out. He moved more fully into the room, making way for Andy to follow him cautiously inside.

_She stepped gingerly over the threshold, making sure to make no noise, following after Oliver, who had moved quickly into the open space._

As she entered the room, Andy registered a certain mustiness to the place. It smelled old and mouldy and just plain gross, and she couldn't figure out why anyone in their right mind would choose _this_ place to break into.

She glanced around the room, taking stock of everything inside before taking another small step. She glanced at Sam momentarily, as though for direction, but he gave her none. She could tell he was listening for any indication of a foreign presence in the store, and stayed as quiet as she could.

_Oliver stood very still as he listened for anything that would give away the gunman's location. Andy waited behind him, straining her ears and glancing around the gym. High walls with basketball nets, large windows showing an upper floor, locker room signs on opposite walls, and two doors to exit the main room._

"This is the police. Come out now with your hands where I can see them," Sam called into the dimly lit room.

To Andy, this request sounded a bit like they were playing an absurd game of playground hide and seek. In a way, she guessed they were. They were always playing hide and seek.

Sam pulled his gun out of his holster slowly, palming it and then turning to Andy to ensure she did the same. He didn't pause to watch her hesitate as she mimicked him, only started to move toward the back of the store, weaving through the shelves and tables as he went. He motioned for her to check the other aisles, which proved to be clear. She then joined him at the back, where he had already checked to ensure the tills were undamaged.

"Alright. There's only one place this guy has left to go if he's in here," He told her, indicating the door that led to what could only be a stock-room. Andy nodded.

Sam stepped aside for her to open the door, while he stood ready to sweep the area immediately after it was exposed. The sight that greeted them was not one they wanted to see. A flat area filled with large wooden shelving units fell to the right, while a rickety set of stairs lay to the left.

Sam considered for a moment. "Let's split up."

_Oliver looked between the two exits, brow furrowed in decision. "Let's split up."_

Andy drew in a quick breath, opening her mouth to protest Sam's whispered decision, but he cut her off. "McNally, take the floor. I'll take the stairs."

"_McNally, take the right. I'll take the left."_

"_Sir..?"_

_Oliver rolled his head around to face her in annoyance. "What, McNally?"_

"_It's just…" She stuttered, "Wouldn't it be better if we, you know, stuck together?"_

"_There's not enough time for that. Let's go!"_

He didn't wait for her to agree –although she didn't- before proceeding up the first couple of steps. The wood creaked beneath his feet, but it probably would have made more noise if she were the one heading up there. She supposed that was why he'd chosen it. She was starting to get a bad feeling in her gut, but ignored it as she stepped toward the shelves. She had to get over this irrational comparison and just do her damn job. For all they knew, there wasn't even anyone in here.

_She opened her allotted door without incident, waiting for Oliver's to click shut before allowing hers to close. She breathed heavily in the darkness, ashamed of her nerves as she swung the flashlight around the blackness of the hall. She reached the stairs that would take her to the second floor she'd seen above and began ascending them slowly._

Andy cleared the first two rows, holding her breath each time she rounded a corner. She shouldn't be this nervous.

_She reached the top of the stairs, checking the gym down below for any movement before proceeding down the hallway stretching before her. _

She cleared the remaining rows only to find that the backroom contained two small offices that she would also need to clear.

_She cleared the rooms along the side of the hallway, including a small dance studio, an arts and crafts room, and what appeared to be a theatre. The theatre had a small stage and only a few seats, and she froze when she heard the sound of a chair scraping from the back. _

She cleared the offices and headed back to the staircase to meet up with Sam. No one was here.

_She hurried to the back, gun drawn, only to discover three small children huddled together._

"_It's okay. I'm a police officer. I'm here to help. I just need you to stay here and don't move until another police officer comes back for you, okay?"_

_The children nodded in fright, and Andy left the room, closing the door behind her in a greater effort to keep them unnoticed. She was finished with the floor, and breathed a sigh of relief. _

_She was headed back to the main gym when she heard it._

She was headed back to the door when she heard it.

_Bang! Bang!_

Bang! Bang!

_Her heart stopped._

Her heart stopped.

* * *

**A/N: Ok, so this is where I originally wanted to end the last chapter, but I had to post what I'd written, so think of this as a sort of second part to Chapter 13, yet it's a separate chapter on here. If that makes any sense to you, GREAT! If not, that sucks because I don't know how to explain it haha. So I would love reviews! I'm sorry for the shortness of it!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Ok, so I've got some time to write this, so I'm going to do it while I can! So, after the longest drawn out cliffhanger in the history of the world…. Here it is! I'm SO sorry it took so unbearably long…**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 15**

_The shots seemed to echo longer than they should, rebounding in her mind over and over. A single thought flashed through her mind: Run. Her first instinct was to obey the voice. She took a step backward, away from the horrible sound._

The shots echoed above her long after they should have died, and all Andy could think about was that Sam could very well be lying up there, oozing blood. He could be dying. A single thought flashed through her mind: Run. Her first instinct was to obey the voice. Andy ran.

She abandoned all thoughts of being quiet and hurtled for the stairs that would lead her to Sam. She wouldn't make the mistake of hesitating again. She wasn't going to let Sam die on her watch, too.

As she clambered up the steps, Andy searched wildly for the source of the shots. She couldn't tell if they'd come from the right or the left, and the fact that the decision could mean life or death panicked her. Her mind raced, trying to go back and identify from which direction they'd come. She couldn't waste time.

Making a split second decision, she turned to the right, proceeding quickly yet cautiously down a row of storage boxes. The silence tightened her throat and her heart pounded in her chest as she fought to keep her breath from coming out in gasps. She was no good to Sam if she were to be shot as a result of her carelessness.

She was nearing the end of the row when she first heard a voice. Her heart clenched as she turned out into the open –gun raised- and almost collapsed as her knees weakened. The breath she hadn't been aware she was holding rushed out of her in a huge gust. The scene before her was much different than the last time she'd been in this position. A man lay face down on the floor a few feet away, another man kneeling beside him. It took her a moment to distinguish one from the other, and realize that the man lying on the ground was not in uniform. Andy lowered her weapon, grabbing at a box behind her for support. She refused to fall to her knees in front of the pair.

"McNally?"

Andy looked up at Sam's voice. She'd never been so relieved to hear him speak before. He wasn't dead. He wasn't even hit. In fact, he looked… exhilarated.

"Did you call anything in yet?" He asked, interrupting her thoughts.

After a brief hesitation to process his meaning, she shook her head. "No. As soon as I heard the shots I went for the stairs. I didn't want to make too much noise."

Sam looked as though he wanted to say something, but restrained himself. "Right. Let's get this idiot back to the barn."

Andy walked numbly behind Sam as he marched the guy out of the building and couldn't help but think that this is how it should have been with Oliver. This should have been the ending they'd gotten last time. This is the ending they would have gotten if she hadn't hesitated, didn't this just prove it?

_No_, she told herself, _it didn't._ Regardless of whether or not she hesitated, Sam would have gotten the situation under control. She had been a non-factor in this one. Maybe in a way it did prove her theory. If she were a better cop, she would have been there; she wouldn't have arrived after everything was under control. She would have been there when her partner needed her.

The ride back to the division was silent, not that Andy minded. Both she and Sam were distracted by their own thoughts, neither inclined to share with the group. The single time she glanced over at him, Sam's eyes were concentrated on the road, his eyebrows pulled slightly together and his jaw clenched. She knew it was his 'contemplation face' and left him alone.

When they reached the unloading zone, Sam offered to book the guy alone, telling Andy to get a head start on the paperwork. The paperwork wasn't uncommon, and so Andy headed off without a second thought. She didn't look back to see Sam staring after her, his brows still furrowed.

* * *

Andy took a lengthy shower once she filled out the paperwork, glad to be going home. Letting the hot water run over her helped to calm her jittery nerves. Adrenaline still pumped in her veins, despite the time lapse.

Stepping out of the shower, Andy dried herself off and pulled her clothes on. She was towelling off her hair when she heard the door open. She glanced up to see who was entering the deserted locker room, surprise showing clearly on her face when she saw Sam.

"What are you doing in here?" She asked.

"Haven't you heard? I've got this secret obsession with women's locker rooms," he quipped, grinning.

Andy rolled her eyes, rolling her towel into a ball and shoving it in her bag.

Silence engulfed them as Andy checked her locker once more for any forgotten items and closed it gently. The sound a door made as it reverberated loudly through the room was too jarring for her not to flinch anymore, so she was always careful to be as silent as possible.

"Shall we?" Sam asked, gesturing to the door. Andy nodded once, preceding him out of the room.

* * *

The ride to her apartment was long and silent, each still lost in their own thoughts. Just as she was about to get out of the truck, Andy recalled the dark, empty apartment and the sleepless night that awaited her, and suddenly she was reluctant to be alone. Sure, everything had worked out today, but that didn't change to fact that it might not have. No amount of happy-go-lucky-the-world-is-right talk covered up the fact that Sam could have died today.

Making a split second decision, Andy turned to face Sam as she climbed out of the truck. "You, uh, you want to come inside?"

She watched the indecision in his eyes quickly resolve itself as he shook his head resolutely. "No. I should probably get home."

_To what?_ Andy wanted to ask, but she didn't, because she had a feeling that she knew why he'd refused. So instead, she nodded and thanked him for the ride, making the trip up to her apartment alone.

Once inside, she stood at the door for a moment longer than necessary, eyes sweeping the room. The place looked as though it hadn't been cleaned in years. For some reason, this bothered Andy more than it normally would have.

For years she'd considered herself a slob, and yet here she was, cleaning her apartment as though it were her life's purpose. She scrubbed the tile with the mop, vacuumed the carpet fifty times over and dusted every available surface, her mind completely focussed on the task at hand. In total, it took her two hours. Two hours of blissful quiet in which she didn't think about anything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, or even the last three weeks. She didn't think about how Oliver died; she didn't think about how Sam _could_ have died; she didn't think about her lack of effectiveness as a partner. All she thought about was getting rid of the dirt and grime coating her apartment. It was everywhere. It was on the counters, in the sink, on the floor, embedded in the carpet, scattered across the table, tangled in her sheets, and after she'd cleaned all of that, she was sure she could still see it everywhere. It wouldn't go away, no matter how hard she scrubbed.

Then she realized that maybe it wasn't the apartment after all, maybe it was her. Maybe _she_ was the cause of the dirt. Maybe _she_ had dragged it in from outside, contaminating everything in her home. Perhaps that was how she lived her life, contaminating everything and everyone she came into contact with, and not being aware of it until everything collapsed around her in a heap of dust.

With a sigh, Andy dropped into a chair at her kitchen table, staring dejectedly at her spotless apartment.

That night, Andy dreamt not only of Oliver, but of Sam, too. She dreamt of Oliver lying dead on the floor, Sam beside him, their blood mingling together to form a stream running into the sewer grates, descending into the home of rats. Two bodies, shot dead, green and brown eyes staring up at her, seeing nothing.

* * *

**A/N: So I know that ending was a little out there and kind of weird, but I wanted to get something up. It's been so long I'm not sure I remember where I wanted this chapter to end. I really hopw to update soon, and I really hope you don't hate me for this suckiness… Again, I am SO sorry it took so long!**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: I'm so sorry that it took so long for me to update. I'm finally out for Christmas break so I'm going to try to post at least a few chapters before I go back!**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 16**

The next day found Andy once again on the desk, along with a summons to Boyko's office. He had just announced his retirement a month's time from now, and Andy couldn't figure out what he could have to talk to her about. To her knowledge, she hadn't done anything deserving of a reprimand, nor praise. Nevertheless, she ascended the stairs to his office and tapped lightly on the glass door. The senior officer glanced up at the sound and beckoned her forward. Her stomach twisted in nervousness as it always did around him.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" she asked, stepping inside and letting the door sweep shut behind her.

"Yes. Have a seat, McNally," Boyko replied, indicating the seat across from him. He was filling out some kind of paperwork, as always.

Andy sat gingerly on the edge of the seat, trying to keep her face neutral. Surely Boyko dealt with nervous officers all the time, but that didn't mean she wanted to appear as one. She'd had enough weakness to last her a lifetime in the past few weeks. Police officers prided themselves on their infallible strength, and yet hers always seemed to falter when tested. It was what made her question her ability to do the job. Yes, she'd watched a man die, and had been a big part of the reason he was dead. She wasn't completely at fault, as Sam had finally gotten through her thick skull, but she would always carry with her that inkling of truth that she was part of his death. An image of Oliver's heartbroken widow and his three children flashed before her eyes and she fixed her gaze on Boyko's name plate in order to clear the image from her mind.

"We're just going to wait for Officer Swarek," Boyko informed her, breaking into her thoughts.

Andy frowned slightly. She wasn't entirely sure what this was about. It wasn't until she remembered the look on Sam's face at the end of the day that she started to get an idea of what was happening. She'd screwed up somewhere along the line yesterday, and she was about to get her ass chewed out for it. Great.

She glanced up as the opening of the door signalled Sam's arrival. Her stomach began to twist again. Despite her reputation for trouble in high school, Andy was never one to like being reprimanded.

"So what's this about?" She asked, breaking the tense silence. Sam shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Officer Swarek has brought a delicate matter to my attention. It's normal procedure in cases like these, so don't feel as though we're coming down hard on you, because we're not. A lot of officers have trouble dealing with this sort of thing."

Andy frowned as silence fell once again. She could tell that Boyko was picking his next words carefully, and she refrained from asking once more what was going on; Boyko would reveal it in his own time.

"McNally, we tried you in the field yesterday, as is procedure, and I had Swarek report back to me at the end of the day. For your first day back, he was impressed with your amount of control, but he did note some distraction throughout the day. You seemed distant and detached. Now, normally this isn't cause for too much concern, but it was the incident at the site of your arrest that brings us here. After Swarek apprehended the perpetrator, you noted that you heard gunshots…"

"Yeah?" Andy replied, unsure of the problem with this. Boyko's eyes narrowed slightly, and she could see that this was not the correct answer. Sam shifted once more. "What's the big deal? What's going on?"

Boyko looked to Sam, who nodded briefly. The older man turned to face Andy, eyes serious. "There were no gunshots reported by Officer Swarek."

It was Andy's turn to frown. "What?" They were crazy, they had to be. She clearly remembered the shots echoing through the building, mingling with her memories and recreating the most horrible moment of her life. She remembered the sounds ripping at her heart, tearing at her gut as dread filled her. She remembered it like it had happened not five minutes ago. How could they tell her it hadn't occurred at all?

"There were no gunshots, Andy," Sam's voice was gentle when he spoke, "Only boxes falling."

"Boxes?" She repeated stupidly. Since when were there boxes falling? Andy searched back in her memories of the incident, but every time she tried, all she could hear were shots fired one after another.

"Yes. No one blames you. We all know how hard it is to come back after something like this." Boyko's voice sounded far away to her ears. Her head began to spin as she fully processed his words. She'd thought that boxes falling were gunshots? What the hell was wrong with her? Was she going crazy? Throughout all of her frenzied thoughts, Andy managed to link on to one word in Boyko's following speech.

"Counselling?" She asked blankly.

"Yes. You won't be allowed in the field again until you've been cleared by the station's psychiatrist," Boyko confirmed.

The spinning only increased. They wanted her to see a shrink? She _was_ crazy!

"You want me to see a shrink?" She asked, as if to clarify. In reality, she knew there was no mistaking what she'd heard.

Boyko looked as though he'd been expecting that reaction. "Look, McNally, I know it may seem undesirable at this point, but talking with someone is a proven method. It works."

"Undesirable?" Now she was outraged. How could he sum up something like this with the word 'undesirable'? "Having someone inserting themselves into my life and picking through my thoughts in an attempt to understand 'what I'm feeling' is a little more than 'undesirable' to me."

His lips thinned slightly in frustration. Of course, he held it in thanks to years of mastering self-control, a talent that Andy obviously did not yet possess.

"I understand that you aren't comfortable with the idea, but it's necessary. If you don't believe me, ask your training officer."

Andy glanced over at Sam to see him glancing guiltily back. She clenched her jaw and turned back to Boyko. "How many hours do I have to do this for?"

"Until the psychiatrist signs off on your return to the field. It could take one session, or it could take twenty. It's up to you."

She refrained from rolling her eyes, opting instead for silence. She knew that her expression was not a happy one, but couldn't bring herself to care about the impression this left with her boss. She'd just been told she was most likely crazy, and as a result she was going to have to let some hokey version of a 'doctor' poke through her brain and ask her how she was feeling until she wouldn't know what she was even supposed to be answering anymore. To top it all off, Sam was the reason she would have to do this. He'd betrayed her. As much as she didn't want to admit it, it stung that he went behind her back like that. Of course, she chided herself, it was his job to do just that, but it didn't mean it felt any better.

Confident that there would be no more protests from her end, Boyko scrawled his signature onto the paper he had been filling out when she arrived and handed it across the desk for her to take. Andy hesitated, eyeing it warily. At the insistent expression on her boss's face, she reached out and clasped the paper in her fingers, turning it toward her and reading the heading: **Documentation of Psychiatric Requirement.** She sucked in a breath. So now she was a psychiatric requirement. Gail would never let her hear the end of it.

Sensing her dismissal, Andy rose from her chair and made her way back down to the desk which was her new permanent station until she completed this insane counselling requirement. She'd always thought of counselling as something for messed up families, unhappy spouses, and psychopaths, not regular everyday people like her. Although, calling herself a regular everyday person was a bit of a stretch.

"What'd Boyko want?" Traci asked as she approached.

Andy quickly stuffed the paper in her pocket as she maneuvered around the desk. "Nothing," She replied, trying to look noncommittal. As always, her horrible lying skills gave her away. Traci's eyebrows furrowed as she studied her, and Andy tried to focus on the stack of papers resting on the desk casually to avoid returning her best friend's gaze.

Approaching footsteps disrupted Traci calling her on her lie, and Andy looked up gratefully, until she saw who it was.

"Andy, I'm sorry," Sam blurted out as he stopped in front of her.

Andy's eyes hardened. "Are you? Well, that makes all the difference." She watched in a twisted satisfaction as guilt clouded his expression momentarily.

"It's procedure."

"I know," She replied shortly, looking back down at the papers in front of her again, keenly aware of Traci's eyes on them.

"Andy… I know it doesn't seem like it, but it's for the best. You need to do this. I was the same way you were at first, but now I acknowledge the help it gave me."

"Sam, I thought you would know better than anyone that I'm not you."

He sighed in frustration. "Will you wait for me at the end of shift? We can talk then."

She glanced up venomously, spitting out, "I would, but I have an appointment to attend."

She concentrated on the papers in front of her again until she heard his retreating footsteps, and then let her shoulders slump forward with the release of tension. She knew it wasn't fair to take out all of her anger on Sam, but that didn't mean she wouldn't.

"Okay, you want to tell me what that was all about?" Traci asked, raising an eyebrow.

* * *

Once the shift was over, Andy waited apprehensively outside the station's psychiatrist office. She'd never liked any kind of doctor, but shrinks were always her least favourite.

"Andrea McNally?" A thin woman with dark rimmed glasses and a flower print dress stepped out of the office, calling as if she had a full waiting room. Andy glanced around, confirming that she was the only one in the waiting room. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she stood, plastering a smile on her face. Hopefully she could convince this woman that she was fine. She didn't want to be crazy.

"So," The woman, who introduced herself as Dr. Draper, began once they were seated, "What brings you here?"

"Um, shouldn't you know that?" Andy asked nervously, twisting her hands in her lap. Dr. Draper made a note on her pad, then looked up, smiling.

"Of course I do, but I want to hear your opinion on the matter."

"Right. Well, I'm here because I can't go back into the field until you clear me."

Her smile became understanding as she made another note. "That would be the standard answer I first hear."

"Right."

"Tell me about yourself, Andrea."

"I prefer Andy."

"Andy, then."

Andy sat in silence as Dr. Draper stared at her, reminded of why she hated shrinks. Their eyes always seemed to bore right through her, as though they were piercing her with their demand for honesty. She wasn't an open person, and shrinks thrived on openness. The ticking of the clock filled the silence as Andy tried to decide what to say. Another thing she hated about shrinks: their cryptic questions. Every question left the possible range of answers to stretch for miles. What the hell was she supposed to tell the woman about herself? And why was it any of her business?

"What do you want to know?" She finally asked.

"Anything you want to tell me."

"What is going to be most helpful?"

"What do you think is helpful?" She asked, looking at Andy intently.

Andy sighed in frustration. "I don't know. I'm not a shrink, so I have no idea what you want to know."

"Then tell me what you want me to know."

"What if I don't want you to know anything about my life?" Andy challenged. She knew that goading Dr. Draper wasn't the best idea, but since when were shrinks easily goaded?

"Good point. I guess you don't have to tell me anything about yourself then. Talk to me about Oliver Shaw."

Andy was surprised at her abruptness, but welcomed moving away from her personal life, although the topic of Shaw's death wasn't something she wanted to talk about. But it was the only way she would get back to doing her job. "He was a good man."

"He was," The shrink agreed, nodding gently.

"We were… searching an abandoned warehouse for a suspect. We split up, and I heard shots…" Andy said, looking down at her lap, willing the memories to stay away. She wasn't about to show emotion to this shrink.

"I'm aware of the specifics of the case, Andy," Dr. Draper told her gently.

"Then what do you want?" Andy asked, frustrated.

"Tell me how it made you feel."

"How it made me feel?" Andy asked, incredulous. "How do you think it made me feel? I watched a man die! My _partner_!"

"Good, good. Finally some emotion. We're making progress."

"Progress?"

"Yes. Exposing your innermost emotions is the purpose of being here."

Andy sat back in her chair angrily. More than anything, she wanted to get up and walk out, but she knew she couldn't if she wanted any hope of getting back to the field.

"Can you just tell me what you want me to say so we can get this over with?" She asked, barely controlling her anger.

"Andy, there's nothing specific you can say to get this over with faster. It's a healing process," Dr. Draper answered, her voice as gentle as ever. She checked her watch, continuing, "And I'm afraid we're out of time. That's it for this time. I'll see you back here on Thursday?"

"I guess so," Andy replied. Where else would she be? The good part of this whole thing was that starting Thursday, she would get paid to sit here for an hour during shift. Of course, sitting here involved talking about her feelings, but hopefully she could avoid that as much as possible.

* * *

**A/N: OK, so I'm sorry it took so long to update. Now I'm not going to go off on random tangents with this whole counselling thing, in fact I'm only aiming for about 20 chapters to this story, maybe less. I hope I can get the rest of this up shortly!**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Ok, so here, once again, is me posting very late… And, once again, I am apologizing for my lack of time/inspiration. School is more nuts than last semester! So anyways, here it is!**

* * *

**Chapter 17**

_Heavy breathing filled the darkness surrounding her. She blinked, trying to see, but only blackness pressed in around her. The breathing quickened. Where was she?_

_She could hear footsteps coming towards her through the blackness, but couldn't figure out where they were coming from. She whipped about hastily in circles, trying to locate the source, pointing her gun as she suddenly realized it was in her hand. Crackling from a radio filled the growing noise as she continued jerking her body in circles, trying in vain to lock in on a target. _

_A clicking told her whoever was coming had aimed a gun at her. They could see her, but she couldn't see them. Panic was a vice gripping her throat as she tried to breathe. Left with no other option, she dropped to her stomach just as the gun fired. _

_There was no pain in her stomach, meaning she wasn't hit, but someone else was groaning. Beside her. She turned her head to the source of the sound, and the remaining breath in her lungs escaped her. _

_Less than a foot from her was the body of Oliver Shaw, his dead green eyes boring blankly into hers as a pool of blood spread across the ground from underneath him. She screamed._

Andy jerked up in bed, panting. She hadn't had a dream that bad in a few nights, and was starting to hope they would gradually recede until they stopped altogether. The therapy had probably triggered their full-force return. Gritting her teeth angrily, she swung her feet out of bed, heading for the shower. She should have fought harder over the damn therapy. How was this helping at all? If anything, it only made everything worse.

* * *

"Morning McNally," Sam's voice called out as she headed from her building an hour later. The sun was still rising, filling the sky with brilliant splashes of pink and orange. A month ago, she would have looked up and smiled. She'd always liked the colours in the sky at sunrise, she just didn't like that she had to be _awake_ to see them.

Her spine stiffened as she took in Sam's casual form leaning against his truck. Her jaw set involuntarily as she headed toward him. Despite knowing it wasn't _his_ fault she was in this situation, she couldn't help but still feel a little resentment towards him.

"Morning," She replied shortly, coming to a stop in front of him.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, Sam waiting for Andy to break it, Andy refusing to. She knew it was stupid and childish, but she couldn't help it. So, instead of breaking the silence, Andy maneuvered around him with a few well-placed steps and continued on her way. Well, she _would_ have continued on her way if she hadn't been stopped first.

"Look, I don't know what you think, but I had a responsibility to report back to Boyko with the _truth_. And the truth is that you need help. You can deny it all you want, God knows I did, but you're going to realize at some point that I'm only trying to help you," Sam ground out. His grip was firm on her upper arm, preventing her from walking away, but Andy focused her eyes on the ground between them to avoid his burning gaze. His words made sense, but she couldn't bring herself to believe them. She'd seen the aftereffects of therapy before and wasn't inclined to believe it would do her any good this time either, unless it was supposed to make people disappear. In that case, she'd better start packing.

Sighing in frustration, Sam released her arm and headed around to the driver's door of his truck. Regret seeped through the steel wall she'd put up. She told herself yesterday that he didn't deserve this and yet here she was, taking her frustrations out on him again.

"Sam…" She started, the regret she felt colouring her tone, but when she looked up, his eyes were now the ones of steel.

"When you figure it out, let me know. I'll be here," He told her before sliding behind the wheel and starting the truck. Andy watched until he was out of sight, his final words playing over and over in her mind: _I'll be here._

* * *

Andy's encounter with Sam had slowed her up, ensuring that she would once again enter the station at a run. She wondered why anyone bothered to be surprised to see her rushing in anymore; it happened nearly every day. She changed at breakneck pace and hurried to Parade, sliding into her seat just as Boyko entered. Traci shot her a questioning look out of the corner of her eye but Andy brushed it off, turning to listen to what Boyko had for everyone else to do today. It was rather masochistic of her, really, listening to what she wouldn't get to do, but at least she got to hear what Traci would get to enjoy.

Or not. Traci was on the desk with her today. Great, they would both get to be miserable together.

"So… any reason you were late this morning?" Traci asked, trying to appear casual as they headed toward the desk.

"You mean other than the usual reasons I'm late every morning?" Andy countered.

Traci hesitated, "Good point. So you going to tell me what that special reason was?"

"Who said there was a special reason?"

"Your face when you walked in this morning."

"What?" Andy asked, frowning.

Traci shrugged, "Well, usually you just look out of breath and rushed. This morning there was something… different. You looked on edge."

"Oh?" Andy replied, feigning innocence and failing spectacularly. Honestly, she didn't know where this was suddenly coming from. She hadn't noticed that Traci paid such close attention. Glancing over at her friend, she saw that no reply was forthcoming, only a knowing look she'd mastered over her years of motherhood. "Ok, fine," she relented, "Sam stopped by this morning."

Traci's eyebrows shot up. "Do tell."

"It wasn't what it sounded like. He was just… trying to help."

She could tell Traci didn't get it, but how could she put his visit into words when she didn't fully understand it herself?

"He's… Well, we aren't exactly on the best terms right now…" She hedged, not wanting to admit she was being forced to see a psychiatrist. She didn't want the other rookies thinking she was weak.

"What? You and Swarek always get along," Traci exclaimed as they rounded the corner to the front desk, taking up their positions behind it. Andy settled in for another long day of minimal action.

"Yeah, well that was before he recommended I waste an hour each day talking to a shrink," Andy muttered, leaning closer so no one would hear her admission. Traci only appeared minimally shocked at the news.

"Will talking to a shrink help?" Her friend finally asked.

"They seem to think so."

"Then why are you so mad at him? He was clearly trying to do what's best for you."

Andy sighed, "Yes, I know. I tried to apologize but the damage was already done. Can we just not talk about it anymore? I'd rather not hear about how terrible I am."

Traci gave her a half-smile, "You aren't terrible Andy, just a little mixed up. Perfectly understandable."

Andy sighed. Before all of this, Traci wouldn't be acting like this. She wouldn't be trying to comfort her, she'd be tearing her a new one. It bothered her a little that things had changed between them.

* * *

"Tell me something that bothers you, Andy," Dr. Draper began after it became clear Andy had nothing she would willingly share with the woman.

"Um… does sitting here count?" Andy asked, only a hint of humour in her voice.

The shrink's lips twitched almost imperceptibly as she scribbled on her pad. "I suppose it does. Is there anything else?"

"What do you mean?" Andy asked, unsure what she wanted to hear.

"Well, has anyone treated you differently since Oliver Shaw died? Perhaps it isn't even how they talk to you, just how they look at you."

Andy winced at the abrupt referral to Oliver's death, but considered the question for a moment nonetheless. "I guess you could say that."

"How so?"

"Well, some people look at me weird all the time, like I'm about to break or something. And they're trying to be careful all the time when they talk to me, like they're scared to say the wrong thing."

"And does that bother you?"

"Wouldn't that bother everyone?"

Dr. Draper made another note on her pad, speaking as she wrote, "I suppose it would."

* * *

Andy retook her seat beside Traci after her session feeling wholly unchanged. When exactly was the revelation supposed to take place that would deem her 'ready' to once again do her job? She was tired of sitting in that office already, even though it had only been two sessions. It reminded her too much of the few sessions with a family therapist that her mother had insisted they go to. Looking back, Andy appreciated the lengths her mother had gone to in order to attempt to recapture the happiness they had once had, but the fact remained that her efforts had been futile. After only a handful of appointments, Andy woke up one morning to find her mother gone, nothing left behind except her thoroughly hurt and confused husband and daughter.

"Andy?"

"Yeah?" She swivelled in the chair towards the voice as she tried to shake off the sudden wave of emotion. Damn this therapy.

She looked up to find the voice belonging to Luke. She would have been surprised, except she knew she shouldn't have been, given that they _did_ work in the same place.

"What do you need?" She asked when it was clear he wasn't going to elaborate.

"Oh, right," He stuttered, causing her to frown. Luke wasn't a nervous person. "I, um, just wondered if you could file some things for me. You know, paperwork."

"Yeah, sure thing," She replied, smiling, hoping to ease his inexplicable anxiety.

"Uh, great, thanks," He muttered. He tugged at the knot in his tie for a brief second, a sign that he was warring with something, before finally making a decision and looking back at her. "Are you, um, how are you doing? You know, with everything?"

Realization hit her on the side of the head with the force of a brick. Of course. This was exactly what Dr. Draper had been talking about. Luke wasn't sure how to act around her anymore, not after everything that had happened between them. She figured he was alright with the break-up so she chalked it up to what seemed to have everyone else stepping on eggshells around her. Of course.

"Yeah, I'm good," She replied, forcing her lips to curve upwards into a smile. How the hell did he think she was? What kind of question was that?

Relief washed over his face briefly. For a moment, she was sure he feared her breaking out into tears. Well wouldn't that just suck for _him_.

"That's good. I'm glad," He smiled briefly before starting to take a couple of steps backwards, escaping. "Well, I have to go. I'll see you around."

Andy nodded after him, knowing he couldn't see. She sighed, dropping her chin into her hand. Luke was treating her differently. Even Traci was treating her a little differently. Now that she paused to consider it, the only person who really didn't look at her as though expecting her to melt down, the only person who still looked at her as though she were a capable adult, was Sam. And she'd screwed it up.

* * *

**A/N: OK, so here's another long awaited chapter! I really hope people are still here!**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Long time no chapter! I'm trying to fix that! I actually took a few days to reread the entire story and realized exactly how weirdly off-base of my original plan it went… but oh well, I'll make it work! I tend to do that a lot, so I feel as though I won't post stories in the future until they're all the way done to prevent this unfortunate occurrence! So here we go!**

* * *

**Chapter 18**

The days stretched on, as did the therapy sessions. Andy was becoming increasingly frustrated with the lack of progress she seemed to be making. If she knew what exactly Dr. Draper was looking for she would at least be able to estimate her progress, but she had no clue. So, she continued to sit in the shrink's office for an hour every day, talking about nonsense. They'd discussed not only Shaw, but the rest of her job, and her father. Of course, this wasn't exactly what she wanted to talk about, but at this point she figured whatever the shrink brought up would be helpful. The experience had gone from a root canal to pulling teeth over the course of two and a half weeks, but apparently there was still work to be done.

"So, tell me about the incident that brought you here," Dr. Draper said after Andy sat down.

Andy frowned, "Haven't we already talked about Officer Shaw enough?"

Dr. Draper cocked her head to the side. "It's interesting that you put it that way."

"Why is that?"

"Because it makes me think you don't want to discuss him anymore. Not because you're uncomfortable, but because you've run out of things to say. Am I right?"

Andy took a moment to think about that. In the preceding weeks, they'd talked about everything and anything related to Oliver Shaw. Despite her reluctance to share her innermost feelings, she felt almost better after doing it.

"_So, tell me, Andy, what it is that bothers you most about this?"_

"_You mean besides the fact that I saw a man die?"_

_Silence. _

_Andy sighed. This wasn't helping. She didn't know what to say anymore. She was out of snarky comments and witty retorts. They weren't doing her any good anyways. She was helpless in this situation, and she hated it. The only way to get out of here was to open up, she realized, and that meant becoming vulnerable. She hated feeling vulnerable. It meant she was in a situation she couldn't control. Suddenly, something clicked inside her._

"_I hate that it made me feel so helpless," She blurted, before thinking it through, "I hate that I couldn't _do_ anything to help him except stand there and talk to the bastard that did it. I couldn't save him."_

_Dr. Draper nodded, making a note on her pad. "Good, Andy. Really good."_

_Andy exhaled, feeling a relief she hadn't felt in a long while._

After the first admission, they'd just kept on coming, pouring out of her at the speed of light. With each confession came a greater sense of relief. She told Dr. Draper about the guilt she felt at Oliver's death, how she'd felt it was her fault at first, and how she'd felt when she'd looked at his wife and children. All of it. She had divulged everything she felt about the entire incident.

"Yeah," She finally answered, "I guess you're right."

Dr. Draper smiled. "Good. It's remarkable for you to have made the transition so quickly."

"Transition?"

"Yes. The transition to openly sharing your feelings with me. I must say, I thought it would take a lot longer than it has."

"Oh."

Dr. Draper smiled, continuing, "But Officer Shaw wasn't what I meant when I said the incident that brought you here. I meant the incident with Officer Swarek. You said you heard gunshots?"

Andy swallowed, uncomfortable once again. This was when Dr. Draper would declare her mentally incompetent and ship her off to the funny farm. "I did, but I was clearly mistaken. It was a tense situation."

"That it was. Do you think it was the stress that got to you, or was it something else?"

Andy frowned, contemplating that. "Well, what else could it have been? I was tense and over exaggerated what happened. It must happen to everyone. Right?"

The doctor frowned at that one before replying. "It does happen to some people, yes. What I want to know is why it happened to _you_."

Andy sighed. Just when she thought she was getting somewhere.

"You seem frustrated," Dr. Draper noted.

No shit, Sherlock. "It's just that I thought we were getting somewhere, but now there's a brand new issue to bring up. There's always a brand new issue to bring up."

Dr. Draper smiled and told her it was natural to be frustrated. Well, of course it was. How else was she supposed to feel when she went over the same things again and again? Would she ever get back to work?

Andy sighed once again. "What do you want to know?"

"Whatever you think is helpful."

Leaning back in her seat, Andy fought the urge to scream. They were _exactly_ back where they started.

* * *

After her less than productive session, Andy retreated back to the desk, where Dov waited for her.

He looked up, "Hey! How was it?"

Andy snorted, "How do you think it was?"

Dov made a gesture of acknowledgement at his stupid question. They sat in companionable silence, broken every so often by one of Dov's outrageous stories or stupid jokes. It was what she loved about him. He was able to just be stupid and tell jokes when he knew people weren't in the mood for seriousness. He still looked at her differently, but she guessed it wasn't his fault. He couldn't control the emotions in his eyes. He got points for the effort he put in to acting normal.

Thinking about it, Andy realized that perhaps her problem wasn't that everyone was acting differently; it was just that she was looking for it. She probably only noticed the small changes in behaviour because she sought them out. Besides, when she thought about it, she had been acting differently too. She'd been a walking zombie some days, and when she wasn't, she was an irritable bitch who snapped at everyone around her. She definitely didn't get any points for trying.

"Excuse me."

Andy turned at the voice interrupting her thoughts, only to feel as though she'd been punched in the stomach. "Mrs. Shaw!" She exclaimed in utter surprise. Dov's head snapped up from the paperwork he was filling out, also surprised. He repeated Andy's exclamation.

Michelle smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. Andy suspected that it never fully would. "Hi. I'm –uh- here to see Sam?"

"Of course," Dov replied, before Andy could, "Why don't you sit down while Andy goes and checks to see if Officer Swarek has come in yet?"

Andy opened her mouth to protest, and then promptly closed it. She had no place arguing with Dov over something so small, even if she had no desire to see Sam. After their last encounter, she wasn't sure how to act around him. After the past sessions with Dr. Draper, she knew Sam had only been trying to help, and he'd achieved his goal. She felt much lighter than she had previously. Talking to Sam had been helpful, since he knew what she was going through, but it wasn't the same as talking to Dr. Draper, yet she couldn't put her finger on why. She decided not to over-think it, for once. Her thoughts had taken her all the way to the bull pen, and she surveyed the area for Sam, finally spotting him by leaning against his desk. She headed over to him, taking a deep breath.

Pausing before him, Andy found herself at a loss for words. What was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to say it? He was staring at her, and she was standing there, like an idiot. Great.

"Uh, Mrs. Shaw is here to see you," She blurted out lamely.

"Thanks McNally," He replied, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. He grabbed a box off his desk, handing another to her and led the way to the front desk. They walked in an awkward silence.

"Michelle, thanks for coming," Sam greeted his friend's wife with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes either. She rose from the chair she had been sitting in, taking the box from his hands. "How are you doing?"

She gave him a watery smile. "As well as can be expected, I guess." Sam nodded in answer, closing the subject. "I should get going. I have to pick up the kids."

"Say hi for me. McNally will help you get the boxes out to your car."

Her gut instinct was to counter with 'Oh I will, will I?' but she squashed it. This wasn't the situation for it. With another half-smile at Michelle, Sam turned and headed back to the bull pen without another glance at Andy. Michelle frowned at his abrupt departure as Andy began to lead the way out of the station.

"Where are you parked?" Andy inquired politely once they reached the parking lot. Michelle pointed out a deep blue sedan and Andy swallowed thickly. It was a family car. A family car to which they were carrying Oliver Shaw's belongings. They reached the car, and she paused, unsure of what to say.

Thankfully, Michelle saved her from having to ask. "You can, uh, just put it, uh, in the back." The woman's eyes watered at her words, and Andy knew that she was having difficulty with having to put boxes of the remnants of her husband 'in the back.' After the boxes were placed in the back, Michelle turned to her. "How are you, Officer McNally?"

The concern in the woman's eyes made Andy want to burst into tears. After all she'd been through, was _going_ through, she was concerned about someone else. "Call me Andy, Mrs. Shaw, and I'm good."

The skin around her eyes crinkled as she smiled, "Good. And call me Michelle."

Andy smiled in return, watching the other woman walk around to the front seat of her car.

Before she climbed in, she looked back at her, anxiety appearing on her face. "Look, I know this may seem odd to you, and I know I may be overstepping some invisible boundary, but I'd really like to keep in touch with you, if that's ok. You know, just check in every now and then to see how you're doing."

To say Andy was shocked was an understatement. She was lost as to why this woman would possibly want to know how she was doing. They'd only met twice, and both times involved Oliver Shaw. They came from completely different areas of life, and Andy was quite sure Michelle had better things to do than worry about someone she'd only just met. However, she reasoned, it might be good to have this lingering connection to Shaw, and it occurred to her that this may be Michelle's reasoning behind it as well. Despite everything that she was going through after his death, a small part of her wanted to take Michelle up on her offer, just to make sure his family got along as well as they could. She owed him that much.

"I'd like that very much, Michelle," She finally replied, and relief shone in the other woman's eyes. She thanked Andy and climbed behind the wheel of her car, pulling away from the curb. Andy watched her go, turning to return to the desk. The encounter had proven to her that Michelle didn't blame her for Shaw's death; if she had, she would want to be as far away from Andy as possible. The thought lightened Andy's mood just a little.

The rest of her shift passed without any excitement, and Andy made her way to the locker rooms, meeting up with Traci on the way there. The two talked of Traci's day on the street, and Andy found herself yearning to be back in the field. She missed the feeling of accomplishing something. The pair changed, and Andy accepted Traci's offer to go to the Black Penny, though she wouldn't drink. She'd had enough alcohol for a while.

Entering the bar, Traci made a beeline for Jerry. The two had grown closer after Oliver's death, and Traci had finally introduced him to her son. They'd gotten along great. Andy knew that Traci wasn't intending to ditch her, but just to check in with Jerry for a moment, and so she made her way to a table in the corner, claiming it, and losing herself in just watching the people in the bar. The couple in the opposite corner making out, the group of three girls fighting over something that was probably stupid, the detectives (including Luke) laughing over some inner-department joke that no one else got. A sudden presence across form her made her jump. It was Sam.

The two stared at each other for a full minute, neither speaking. Before Andy could fully think it through, she finally blurted out, "I'm sorry."

Surprised, he blinked, eyebrows raised, waiting for elaboration.

"You were- uh- you were right. Dr. Draper helped," She muttered, looking at the table, "I shouldn't have gotten so mad at you. It wasn't your fault."

"Wow," He finally said, then grinned, "That was really hard for you to admit, wasn't it?"

Relieved that things seemed normal, Andy allowed herself to grin back. "Shut up."

* * *

**A/N: Ok, so this has been a long time coming, so I really hope you haven't given up on me. I also hope this story hasn't gone too far off the rails for all of you. I read back everything I've written and realised how the whole therapist thing kind of came out of nowhere… hopefully you still like it! Let me in a review (hint hint)!**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Ok, so I've developed my plans for the remaining chapters, and this turns out to be the second last one! Well, technically, this is the last chapter of the actual story, and then there's an epilogue. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 19**

"So, Andy, tell me. Have you thought anymore about the question I left you with when we last parted?" Dr. Draper asked once Andy had sat in her usual chair.

Stunned by the abrupt launch into the session, Andy hesitated before giving her answer. She wasn't sure what she wanted to say of the incident that brought her here. The prospect of telling Dr. Draper that she'd imagined gunshots was unappealing, to say the least, and yet she knew that if she didn't, she would never get back to life as she knew it.

Finally, she caved. "I thought I heard gunshots, but there weren't any. I guess the boxes falling were just really loud. It was nothing."

"Andy, I thought you'd figured out that trying to shrug things off gets you nowhere."

Andy exhaled loudly, "Yeah. So did I."

* * *

"So, how's your therapy going?" Sam asked, his tone cautious. He was leaning against the desk to the file room, Andy's current assignment.

Andy rolled her eyes, not having the effort to suppress the movement. "Just great."

He looked down at the desk, taking her sarcasm for bitterness towards the therapy.

"I know it's helping, it just feels like I'm going backwards now. I'm getting impatient. I just want to get back to work." She amended, hoping he wouldn't think she still held any form of resentment towards him for reporting her to Boyko. Over the past couple of days, things had seemed to go back to normal. They could talk and laugh normally, and Andy was glad. She would never admit it out loud, but she'd been miserable when it had been awkward between them. As much as Dr. Draper was helping her, being around Sam was different. He understood what she was going through far better than anyone else did. It was like there was this unspoken understanding between them that she wasn't a fragile doll about to break, and he wasn't a pushy shrink trying to get inside her head (which he wasn't, but, well, the understanding made sense to them anyways).

"I know the feeling," Sam replied, grinning now. Andy noticed once more that it didn't reach his eyes.

"How- How are _you_ doing?" She finally plucked up the courage to ask, receiving a startled glance from him. "I mean, well, you and everyone else are always asking me how _I'm _doing, but… well, you were his friend. You knew him better than I did. Sure, I was there when he died and all, but he was your _friend_, and no one ever asks you how you're doing."

He was quiet for a moment, but Andy knew he wasn't ignoring her. He wasn't like that. Finally, after a lengthy pause, he spoke, still looking down at the desk between them. "I- uh- I miss him. He was one of the two best friends I've ever had," He said quietly, and for some reason Andy knew he would never be this honest with anyone else. He looked up, and she caught a glimpse of sadness in his eyes before it disappeared, and he spoke with a grin plastered on his face once again, "But it's not the end of the world. I'll live."

She was about to say something else, although she wasn't entirely sure what, but he pushed off from the desk, telling her that he had to go finish up some work. He was lying, she knew, but she didn't call him on it. He was probably embarrassed about being so honest with her, so she would let him have his space.

* * *

The ticking clock had been the only sound in the room for the past five minutes. Andy had realized about two minutes prior that Dr. Draper was waiting for _her_ to start; she just didn't know what to say. How was she supposed to describe the incident without sounding like a complete lunatic?

"I- um- I… I'm not really sure where to start."

"Wherever you feel comfortable."

Damn unhelpful shrinks. "Alright, um, well, it was like the entire day I was comparing everything to the last time I was in the car with Shaw. It was weird. My conversation with Shaw was eerily the same as the one I was having with Sam, and the call on the radio came through sounding so close to what we'd been given that day. I don't really know how to describe it, it was just so similar."

Dr. Draper nodded, indicating she should continue. For once, nothing was written on the little pad.

"So I guess you could say that I was freaking out a little. I kept having weird flashbacks to that day, and then the call came over the radio. We took it, and everything was still so similar. We went inside and Sam suggested we split up, just like-" Andy paused to swallow thickly, embarrassed at the emotion clouding her voice, "Just like Shaw suggested. I didn't think it was a good idea the first time, and I guess with all the similarities between the two, I started to panic a little. It was all too similar." She realized that she was probably repeating herself a lot, but couldn't bring herself to care. She just needed to get it all out. "So we split up, and Sam went upstairs, and I was trying to talk myself into staying relaxed and searching the downstairs area and then I heard the shots, er, boxes falling, and thought they were shots, and all I could think about was that it was going to be the exact same thing all over again and that I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't hesitate this time. I had to get there in time to help Sam. I couldn't let another partner die," She finished, looking at the ground, ashamed that the memory of that day still brought with it an overwhelming sense of emotion.

Dr. Draper nodded, "Good, Andy."

Encouraged by the words, Andy felt herself getting ready for the confession she didn't want to make. "I have nightmares. Sometimes. I can see his eyes. They stare up at me, dead. It's haunting. But, sometimes, the dreams change. Like, after the funeral, his wife and children were in them. After the incident, I didn't just see Shaw's dead green eyes, I saw Sam's. It scared me."

Obviously, the good doctor hadn't been expecting it either, because she blinked in surprise, jerking her head up from looking at her pad. "What scared you about it?"

"That, well, I don't know. It's just that, I've been grieving for Oliver Shaw and dealing with watching my partner die, but he wasn't even really my full-time partner. Sam is. He's, uh, he's helped me with so much. If _he_ died right after all this… I don't know what I'd do."

Dr. Draper smiled, "Wow. I certainly didn't expect that much of a response from you."

Andy felt heat rise to her cheeks, "Sorry."

"No, no, it's good. Really good. In fact, I think you may be ready."

Her eyes widened as she stared at Dr. Draper in shock. "Ready?"

"To get back in the field, yes. You've shared all you've needed to share, and I've helped as much as I can. There will be another evaluation in the field to determine if I made the correct decision, but I haven't been wrong yet," Dr. Draper paused, grinning, "Congratulations, Andy."

* * *

Parade the next morning came with contained anticipation for Andy. She wouldn't get her hopes up, lest Dr. Draper change her mind about Andy's readiness. She hadn't even shared her news with her fellow rookies or Sam. She didn't want to jinx it, as childish as it sounded.

After the mandatory blabbering that no one really paid attention to, Boyko began the assignments. It was his last week before retirement, and Andy knew the cops of this precinct would miss him. "Ok, lets see what we've got here. Peck, you're in the booking room with Ableson," He began, listing off the name of another officer in the precinct as Gail's face fell slightly. It was no secret that she hated the booking room. "Nash and Williams, Epstein and Diaz, McNally and Swarek, out in field."

The grin that lit Andy's face was brilliant as the rest of the rookies looked at her in surprise. Dr. Draper hadn't gone back on her choice. She got to go back to work.

On the way out of the Parade room, Andy found herself surrounded by the other four rookies, questions firing at her from every direction.

"How long have you known you'd be coming back?"

"Is it temporary?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

The last question, coming from Gail, surprised her. "Are you ready for this, Andy?"

Without hesitation, she answered, "Of course. I'm definitely ready for this."

"McNally!" Sam's shout interrupted anybody saying anything else. Andy turned to face him immediately, seeing that he was grinning. "Let's roll."

She grinned in return and headed out to the patrol cars.

* * *

The first call couldn't come fast enough. Sam had been shooting her cautious glances at her every few minutes until she'd finally had to tell him not to worry. She was desperate to prove that she could do this. She hadn't had one flashback yet. The crackling of the radio startled her, but she got herself under control quickly. Yes, she scared a little easier now, but who wouldn't? Sam threw her a questioning glance and she nodded, answering the call. Here it goes.

Twenty minutes later the suspect was handcuffed and shoved into the backseat courtesy of Andy, and Sam was giving her an appraising look. She hadn't messed up. She hadn't freaked out.

They rode back to the barn in silence, leading the suspect into the booking room. Gail looked up in relief when the door opened.

"Oh, thank God! It's been so dead today. It's like the entire criminal population of Toronto decided to take a day off," She exclaimed the moment they entered. Andy didn't think Gail had ever been so happy to see her. She led the woman over to the blonde officer, and Gail almost smiled at her. "How'd it go?"

Surprised as she was by the genuine interest on Gail's behalf, Andy managed to answer, "Well, I'm not sure what Sam's going to say, but to me it went great."

This time Gail actually _did_ smile. "Good. I'm glad."

Andy smiled, her way of saying thank you, and followed Sam outside once again.

* * *

The end of shift came quickly for Andy, and she knew that it meant it was time for Sam's report. She headed to the change rooms, hoping to give him a moment to collect what it was he wanted to say. She hadn't anticipated anyone being in there when she entered.

"Andy! How was it? How'd it go? Did you get cleared?" Traci bombarded her with questions as soon as the door shut.

"Whoa, slow down. It was good. Sam's talking with Boyko now. I was just going to change and head up."

" Oh, that's great! Did you want me to wait?" The other woman asked.

Andy shook her head, knowing that Traci wanted to go meet Jerry. Apparently she'd brought him around a few times since the success of the zoo, and it just kept getting better. Traci nodded in understanding and finished shoving her uniform into her bag, then moving to the mirror to apply her make-up more heavily. Andy smiled. She looked really happy.

Turning away from watching her best friend, Andy opened her locker, trading her uniform for dark jeans and a vibrant peach-coloured scoop neck t-shirt. She joined Traci at the mirror to brush some mascara over her eyelashes and brush her hair out, smudging her signature lipstick over her lips to finish. The two stepped back simultaneously, turning to inspect each other, and then giving identical nods of approval, and then burst out laughing. Andy was sure she hadn't laughed like this in almost a month. It felt good.

Of course, the moment was interrupted by Noelle, informing Andy that she was needed in Boyko's office. Her stomach clenched nervously as Traci hugged her tightly, whispering 'good luck' before departing. This was it.

The journey to Boyko's office was much too short, and she was soon knocking on the glass door, being signalled to enter and sit. She took a deep, nervous breath, glancing at Sam to see if his face gave anything away. It didn't.

"Officer McNally, you know why we're here."

"Yes, sir."

"Officer Swarek has been very clear in his report. You handled yourself with poise, dignity, and control today. He was very impressed and noted that you showed remarkable difference and improvement from your last outing. He believes you ready to return to the field full time, as does Dr. Draper. Would you agree?"

Andy's heart soared. She got to go back in the field! Finally! She was about to jump for joy when she realized that she still had to answer a question. "Yes, I do."

The silence that fell after her words was deafening, and she couldn't help but fidget while she waited for Boyko's final decision. Finally, after ages, he smiled, "Welcome back Officer McNally."

She let out a breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding. "Thank you, sir."

They all shook hands and Andy and Sam left the office, heading to the change rooms. Andy was on such a high that she walked all the way to the locker rooms before realizing that she didn't need to go there anymore. Stopping outside the men's locker room, she turned on her heel, surprising Sam.

"I, uh, forgot I was already changed," she admitted, only slightly embarrassed.

Sam grinned.

"I, um, I wanted to thank you, for telling Boyko I was ready."

"Well you are, aren't you?" He asked. She nodded. "So I was really only telling the truth."

Andy smiled again. "Well, thanks anyways."

"You're welcome," He replied, knowing it was just what she wanted to hear. She turned and began to walk away, pausing when he called after her, "Hey, you going to be at the Penny tonight?" They both knew what the question was really asking, though neither said it aloud.

As much as she wanted to answer in the affirmative, Andy shook her head remorsefully. "No, I'm having dinner with my dad tonight. Raincheck?"

He smiled his cocky little smile at her before pushing into the locker room. "Always."

* * *

Her father was already at the table when she got to the restaurant, and Andy had to be careful not to let her surprise show. Her father had never been early for anything since her mother left. However, it _was_ the time of change. After her father told her he was committed to staying sober, he'd gotten himself straightened out. So far, he had kept his word, another thing he seemed to be incapable of the past how many years, and hadn't touched a drop of alcohol since. Of course, Andy wasn't holding out hope that this time was different –it was too dangerous- but she felt confident that he was dedicated to changing himself. When he stood to greet her, Andy noticed that he was steady on his feet, and breathed a sigh of relief.

The dinner passed with ease, her father congratulating her on her return to the field. The dinner reminded her of the family ones they used to have; only missing one member.

As she wandered home that night, sudden realization struck Andy that she was truly back to 'normal'. She was working, her father was sober, and she and Sam were on good terms. Everything was far better than it had been in a while, and it could only go up from here, right? Before she could think of all the ways in which things could go wrong, Andy shut her brain off. She was just going to concentrate on the fact that, right now, she was the happiest she'd been in a long time.

* * *

**A/N: Ok, so there's the last ACTUAL chapter. There will be an epilogue once I get it all written out and such. I feel like this chapter was very choppy in the transitions, but for some reason it felt right to do it that way. What did you guys think? Too abrupt? Did I wrap everything up too fast? Reviews are love!**


	20. Chapter 20: Epilogue

**A/N: Ok, here we go. I looked everywhere to see if I'd said what month this started in, and I can't, so I'll just wing it! Warning: The epilogue is longer than the entire story! Haha. I had some trouble lettin' it go… So, for the last time… Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

**Epilogue- 2 and a half months later**

The bright August sun glared down upon the picture perfect house in the Toronto suburb, bathing the woman standing on the doorstep in its intense glow. She didn't mind; it had been a long while since Toronto had seen any sun. It had rained for a week prior to today, and it had almost caused the cancellation of her visit. As much as she was looking forward to today, there was a part of her that was filled with apprehension at the prospect of ringing the doorbell. She couldn't explain it, but it was there.

Before she could let her mind start whirling with her desire to back away from the door, she reached out and punched the bell with her index finger, clasping her hands to stop them from fidgeting. She was getting better at controlling her racing mind as well as her nervous ticks, and for that she was glad.

"Andy!"

The door opened to reveal a woman clad in a dark blue dress that flowed down to her knees, her dark brown hair flowing around her shoulders, pulled back from her face momentarily by sunglasses pushed on top of her head. She was smiling, though it didn't reach her eyes.

"Michelle!" Andy replied, smiling widely. She took in the sight of Michelle Shaw, noting that, despite the slight circles under her eyes signalling loss of sleep, she looked younger and happier than Andy had seen her, given her husband had died about three months previous.

"Come in, come in!" Michelle exclaimed, moving aside and opening the door wider in order to usher Andy inside. "How are you?"

Glancing around, Andy took in the house. There were boxes stacked neatly against the walls, yet it still managed to look warm and inviting. There were enough belongings unpacked to make it look like a home, yet enough still packed away for the occupants to still be considered in the process of moving.

"I'm good, actually," Andy replied, a small smile gracing her lips, "And I do mean that, I'm not just saying it." It was the truth. The past two months had been, well, odd. She still had the occasional lapse into grief, but it didn't consume her anymore. The nightmares were still there, but she was learning to deal with them, and they no longer kept her up at night. Much of the time she felt almost normal nowadays. "What about you?"

Michelle smiled, and Andy noticed again that there was pain around the edges. "I'm good. Well, better than I have been. It'll get better. Or at least that's what my shrink says."

"Shrinks are wise people," Andy nodded, recalling Dr. Draper. She hadn't particularly liked the woman, even at the end, but she'd helped her, and for that she was thankful. "And what about the kids? How are they taking the big move?" She asked, following Michelle into the kitchen. Two weeks ago, Andy, Dov, Jerry, Sam, and couple of other friends of Michelle's had helped her and the kids move out of the house they'd lived in since Allison was born. It had been hard on them to leave, especially Allison. She had finally broken down while packing her room.

"_Sure you can handle all those boxes, McNally? They look pretty heavy."_

_Andy snorted, heaving the boxes off the ground, heading to the door. "Please, Swarek. I'm not worried about chipping a nail like you." She smirked as she heard his spluttering attempt at a reply follow her out the door. "Here you go, Dov, this is last of the ones from downstairs."_

"_Thanks, Andy. Hey, have you seen Allison? She hasn't brought anything down yet."_

"_No, I haven't. I'll run up and see if she needs any help," She replied, setting off back inside. She passed Sam and Jerry in some stupid argument, calling each other 'Sammy' and 'Jerr-Jerr'. She rolled her eyes, continuing up the stairs quickly. She was just about to knock when she heard it: a muffled sob from behind the closed door. Andy inhaled sharply, wondering what she was supposed to do. Should she go find Michelle? Yes, that was probably best. It wasn't her place to intrude. Yet a small part of her was telling her to knock and see what Allison would do. She was crying behind closed doors for a reason: she didn't want her mother to see._

_Before she could complete her internal debate, the door opened, making the decision for her. Allison started to walk out, wiping her eyes as she stepped right into Andy. She jerked back in surprise, immediately turning her head away from Andy._

"_Sorry. I didn't see you," Allison muttered, trying but failing to keep the tears out of her voice._

_Andy faltered. What was she supposed to do now? This was unchartered territory for her. Finally, she decided it would be best to tread carefully, and feel the girl out. "It's alright. I kind of snuck up on you," she started, noting that Allison still didn't look up, "Hey, is everything okay? Dov said you hadn't brought anything down yet. Need some help?"_

"_No, it's okay. I've got it."_

"_Are you sure? Because-"_

"_I said I've got it, okay?" She snapped, turning and retreating into the room, repeating, "I'm fine," in a broken voice._

_Andy pressed her lips together as she watched the young girl. She reminded Andy so much of herself at that age. It was the age her mother had left them. "Allison… It's okay to be sad. You know that, right?"_

"_Of course I do."_

"_And it's alright to let people know you're sad."_

_She just nodded, and Andy suspected that silent tears had escaped once more. _

"_Allison, you know that your-" Andy began, hoping she wouldn't burn the tentative bridge she was building._

"_Don't say that!" Allison snapped angrily._

_Andy winced. "Say what?"_

"_That my dad would want me to be happy! You aren't my dad and he isn't here so you can't possibly know what he would want!" Fresh tears coursed down her cheeks as she spoke and she wiped them away furiously._

"_I wasn't going to say that, Allison. I know I'm not your dad and I know he isn't here for you," she began, pausing before her next words to take a deep breath. She needed to calm herself. "But your mother is. Your mom loves you, and she would want to know that you're sad."_

_She may have been mistaken, but she thought that Allison almost scoffed. "She's dealing with enough. Callie asks for Dad every night. She wants him to tell her a story and doesn't get it when… she doesn't understand that he won't ever tell her a story again," she choked out. Allison moved to sit down on the only remaining chair in the room, her bed having been taken out to the moving truck already. Silence hung between them as Andy contemplated what to say next. She didn't need to, because Allison spoke again. "She doesn't understand that he's gone and he's not ever coming back…"_

_With those words, Allison burst into tears, her shoulders shaking as she leaned forward. Unsure of what to do, Andy kneeled in front of the girl, tentatively wrapping her arms around her shoulders. Allison leaned in despite her initial protest. _

"_I just… I just miss him so much. This is where we lived… What if we leave here and I forget him? I don't want to forget him!" _

"_You won't forget him, Allison. He's your father," Andy whispered, squeezing her eyes shut to prevent herself from crying as well. Allison didn't need her tears._

_After a few minutes, Allison's sobs slowed to a stop. Andy released her and she leaned back in her seat, cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry."_

"_It's alright. Like I said, you're allowed to be sad. It's okay to cry."_

"_It's just… Mom has enough on her plate without me breaking down. I need to be strong for her."_

"_Allison… You don't have to be strong for your mother. Why would you think you do?" Andy asked._

"_Because… because someone has to! She spends all of her time comforting Callie and Andrew, but has no one to comfort her, so I do it. I'm the oldest. It's my responsibility."_

_As much as it unsettled her to do so, Andy reached out to tuck Allison's hair behind her ear, looking into her startling green eyes. Oliver's eyes. "I know that you feel like you _have_ to do this. I understand feeling like you need to be strong, but your mother doesn't want you to have to be strong all the time. She doesn't want you crying behind closed doors." Andy paused then, seeing that Allison's eyes were guarded. "If you comfort everyone, who's going to comfort you?"_

_Allison sniffed. "I'll comfort myself."_

_Andy smiled sadly. "You know that isn't how it works. You say you comfort your mother because she has no one to comfort her, yet you're in the same situation."_

_The girl had nothing to say to that._

_A voice at the door startled them both. "What if we comfort each other?"_

_Andy spun on her knee to face the door as Allison's head snapped up. Michelle Shaw stepped cautiously into the room as Andy stood and moved aside. Allison stood to face her mother and hesitantly nodded. Neither mother nor daughter said a word as they embraced. Sensing the privacy of the moment, Andy slipped silently from the room and headed back downstairs, smiling to herself._

"_Okay, McNally?" Sam's voice broke her out of her thoughts and she realized that she'd been standing at the bottom of the steps for longer than necessary. Sam was standing in the area that used to be the living room, a concerned expression on his face. _

_Smiling, she nodded. "I'm good."_

"They're dealing. It was hard, leaving their childhood home, but it was the right thing to do. The shrink said we needed change. I don't know if he meant a whole new house, but I figured what the heck. We'd… We'd been thinking of moving anyhow, and we needed to get away. Too many memories. You want anything to drink?"

Andy shook her head, considering what Michelle had said. "If there's one thing I've learned from all of this, Michelle, it's that you can't run from the memories, and you shouldn't."

The sad smile broke across Michelle's face once more as she surveyed the kitchen. "I know. I just… I guess I just wanted to start over. Clean slate. A place to make new memories. I hope that doesn't make me sound cold."

"Of course not."

Quiet hung in the air between them before it was broken by the shrieking of young children. Before Andy could pinpoint the location of it, a little girl flung herself down the stairs and wrapped her arms around Andy's legs, which were bare below her denim cut-offs.

"Andy! Andy!"

Andy grinned, kneeling down once the little girl had released her legs in order to get to eye level. "Callie! How are you doing sweetie?" It was the first time she'd asked that question in a long while without an underlying meaning. It felt good.

"Mommy bought me a new doll! Do you want to see?" The girl asked, looking at Andy with the innocence only a child could possess.

"Of course!" She replied. Callie produced the doll and she gave all of the appropriate remarks of praise. Callie beamed.

"Callie, sweetheart, why don't you go show Dov your new doll? I'm sure he'd love to see," Michelle told her daughter, watching as the little girl nodded vigorously, proceeding to run outside to the back yard, yelling for Dov. Andy smiled as she watched her go. As well as keeping in touch with Andy, Michelle had kept in contact with Dov, and Callie had taken to him immediately.

"I'm glad to see she's happy," Andy remarked, standing once more. Michelle nodded, her gaze fixed on Callie, who had now launched herself at Dov. She must have given away Andy's presence, because he, as well as Jerry and Traci, were looking towards the house. Traci looked slightly uncomfortable, having been dragged here by Jerry. Off to the side, Allison sat on the porch swing with a book, her feet tucked underneath her. She looked serene, with only a twinge of sadness surrounding her. "And Allison? How's she doing?

Michelle smiled slightly, still looking out the window. "She's getting better, like me. It's a work in progress. I'm just glad she isn't holding it in anymore," she said, looking away from the window to lock eyes with Andy, "Thank you."

Andy held up her hands, unsure of what to say.

Michelle understood what she meant, though. "No, if you hadn't talked to Allison, we would probably still be stuck in the same position."

Any smiled slightly at Michelle, both women accepting that as a response.

"I'm going to, uh, head outside. You coming?" Andy asked, breaking the silence. She felt awkward, though she was sure Michelle didn't. The other woman shook her head, saying that she would be along in a minute, and Andy headed outside, stepping once more into the sunshine. She waved at Traci, Dov, and Jerry before looking around for Sam. She didn't want to appear too obvious, but she _did_ want to see him. She was feeling a little shaky, and talking to him always seemed to settle her, as much as it pained her to admit it.

Spotting him over by the barbeque, Andy smiled slightly to herself and headed over. He hadn't spotted her yet, so she was in the perfect position to startle him, which she did as she said, "Uh oh, no one told me that _you_ would be manning the grill. I might have to rethink eating tonight…"

Sam jerked around, and she grinned as she realized that she had succeeded in startling him. He recovered in record time, replacing the startled look with his trademark cheeky grin, lifting a bottle of beer to his lips to take a swig. "What, and miss out on the best burger you've ever tasted? I thought we were past this, McNally."

She raised an eyebrow, remembering the day months ago when he had cooked her breakfast, as well as the day not so long ago when he had cooked her dinner. As friends, of course. They'd gotten together outside of work quite a bit recently; for drinks, dinner, sometimes just to talk, but always as friends, nothing more. "True, but while you may have proved yourself in the kitchen, you definitely haven't proven yourself at a grill just yet."

He mock-sighed, "Is this how it's going to be every time I try something new? You doubt me until I prove myself?"

Grinning, Andy nodded. "You bet. Can't have you giving me sub-standard results now can I? I have to keep you on your toes."

Sam's grin faltered the slightest bit and he turned back to the barbeque hastily, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'you always do.' Andy ignored it, instead taking the opportunity to glance around the yard. Michelle had emerged, and was over talking with one of the couples that had helped them move. She glanced over at Andy, smiling in a way that made Andy glance back at Sam. Michelle had been smiling like she knew something Andy didn't, but Sam was still concentrating on the grill. Confused, she turned back to see Michelle laughing with the couple again as though nothing had happened.

"You know, I can't concentrate with you hovering over my shoulder, scrutinizing my every move, McNally," Sam drawled, not looking over his shoulder at her.

"I'm not hovering! I'm just… observing."

He let out a short laugh, flipping a burger before saying, "Yeah, right. Well, would you mind 'observing' someone else?"

She laughed. "Why? Am I making you nervous, Swarek?"

"Oh yes, incredibly," He replied, sarcasm colouring his tone. "So unless you want me to accidentally burn myself or these burgers, I would recommend going and finding someone else to bother. You're very distracting, and cooking requires a great deal of concentration."

"So now I'm distracting?" She asked, laughing.

He laughed as well, though he tried not to. "Yes, ok? You're very distracting. Go get yourself a drink and leave me to cook in peace."

Smirking, she swiped the almost full beer out of his hand, saying, "Don't mind if I do," and slipping out of his reach before he could even react. "What? You need both of your hands to cook and we wouldn't want you getting intoxicated while working with fire. After all, cooking requires a great deal of concentration," She added sternly, grinning again as she took a drink from the beer, watching his eyes narrow in incredulity, and walked away toward Traci, Dov, and Jerry. Dov looked mildly mortified, Jerry was trying not to kill himself laughing, and Traci looked extremely surprised. "What's up?" Andy asked, reaching them and acting like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

* * *

"Ok, I admit, it's not bad," Andy conceded.

"Not bad? After all that work, it's only 'not bad'?"

"Ok, fine, it's amazing."

"That's better."

Andy laughed despite herself. She felt so normal, sitting here, bantering with Sam, that she found it hard to believe that they were in Oliver Shaw's widow's back yard. Talking with him always seemed to make the bad things fade into the background, and she loved that, but still she was wary. Over the past two months, she and Sam had grown closer once more, getting back to where they had been before the Dr. Draper fiasco, and then taking things a few steps further. They'd gone for drinks after work once, and then again, and then soon drinks turned into dinner at his place, and then at hers. She didn't really know what was going on, and got the distinct impression that he didn't either, but neither of them seemed to care, so nothing was ever mentioned. In a way, she liked it like that. She didn't have to deal with any of the confusion of 'feelings' and 'relationships,' yet she still got to be around him; she still got to feel everything fade into the background. She knew she wasn't using him by any stretch of the imagination. No, she'd already overthought that one to the maximum amount, and came up with the conclusion that she liked being around Sam just because he was Sam, not for any ulterior motive, and for that she was glad.

She finished her burger quickly and excused herself to go to the washroom, heading inside. She had the distinct impression that Sam was watching her as she went, but ignored it.

Once inside, she found the bathroom rather quickly, thankful that she hadn't gotten lost. She stared at her face in the mirror for a long moment. She looked… older. Her face was slightly drawn, and her eyes were haunted around the edges. It was the only sign of what she had gone through, and was still going through. Shaking herself, she tore her gaze from the mirror, deciding it was best not to dwell on things that couldn't be helped.

She passed through the kitchen on her way back outside, stopping short as she caught sight of a hunched over form in the kitchen. She drew nearer, realizing that it was Michelle, leaning against the sink, tears shining in her eyes.

"Michelle? Are you okay?" She asked tentatively, knowing what a stupid question it was before she'd even said it.

The brunette woman looked up suddenly, startled by Andy's sudden appearance. She wiped hastily at her eyes, reminding Andy very much of Allison. "Y-Yes, I'm fine. W-What are you doing inside?"

"Washroom."

"Oh."

Silence stretched between the two women as Andy waited, knowing Michelle would eventually come out with it.

"It's just… Well, Oliver used to do this every year," she whispered, "Have a barbeque. We would invite friends over and do this exact same thing every year. It feels odd to do it without him this time. It feels… wrong. Am I supposed to feel this guilty about moving and having a barbeque and being happy, even if it's only for a split second at a time?"

"No, of course not," Andy replied instantly, knowing it was the truth, even if she hadn't been in this situation before. She'd never lost a husband, so she couldn't really tell Michelle that she understood what she was going through. However, she had been affected by Oliver's death, and felt the same guilt at being happy.

"It's just so hard not to think about him every minute of every day. I try to keep it together because people are expecting me to be alright now, but… I'm not, Andy. I'm just not alright," She choked out, more tears streaming down her cheeks. She covered her mouth with one hand, trying to suppress a sob.

"No one expects you to be alright, Michelle," Andy replied, stepping hesitantly closer, placing her hand over the one of Michelle's that remained braced on the counter.

They remained standing like that, both of them looking out the window, not saying a word, for a few moments, before Michelle spoke, never taking her eyes off the table full of laughing people.

"I hope you don't think I'm overstepping, Andy, but I need to say this," She paused a moment, and Andy figured she was trying to work out how to word her next statement. "You and Sam," She started, and Andy blushed furiously.

"We're friends. Nothing more," She said hastily.

Out of the corner of her eye, Andy saw Michelle's lips lift into a half-smile. "No, you're not. Oliver knew it, too. He always said that whoever went after Tommy McNally's kid would have to be 'one ballsy SOB.' I remember the first time he told me Sam Swarek was the 'ballsy SOB.' I didn't think he was serious at first, but seeing you two together, I know he was right. The way he looks at you…" She trailed off, sadness clouding her expression as she turned to face the younger woman, "It reminds me of the way that Oliver used to look at me."

Andy's brain had gone numb. She had no clue how to reply to that. Sam looked at her like Oliver looked at Michelle? Oliver and Michelle had been married. What did that mean?

Michelle squeezed her hand, still smiling, but the sadness was no longer there. "You can't let that slip away from you, Andy. You can't hold back just because you're afraid of opening yourself up. Don't let Oliver's death prevent you from feeling what we're all meant to feel."

Still unsure of what to say, Andy merely nodded. The two stood together for a moment more before Andy headed back outside, though she couldn't look Sam properly in the eye for the rest of the evening. She was too preoccupied with what Michelle had told her. Could it be true?

* * *

In the dying rays of sunlight, the evening came to a close. Callie and Andrew had long since been sent to bed, and Allison had disappeared into the house with her book. She'd seemed to be better than when Andy had last seen her, and the two had exchanged pleasant conversation, ridding her of the fear that Allison was on the fast track to becoming her. Whether he was here or not, Oliver wouldn't have wanted his daughter to become closed off.

Finally, after telling herself that she was going to go about five times, she stood, telling Michelle that she really had to be going. The woman walked her inside, pausing as she opened the door.

"Andy, I just wanted to thank you again, for everything," She said quietly. "Getting to know you… I'm glad you were with him."

Andy swallowed thickly, nodding briefly. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say to a statement like that. It seemed that she wasn't too sure of what to say to Michelle half the time anyways, so it didn't really surprise her. Instead of saying anything, she let Michelle pull her into a quick hug.

"Remember what I said," She whispered in Andy's ear before releasing her and stepping back.

"I, uh, I will," Andy replied, stepping through the door.

Before she could get very far, the door opened again. She half-turned at the end of the walk, expecting to see Michelle once more.

"Past your bedtime, McNally?" It wasn't Michelle.

"As a matter of fact, it is," She replied, grinning as Sam headed toward her, shoving his hands in his pockets.

He stopped in front of her, rocking back on his heels as he spoke into the silence that had engulfed them. "You, uh, need a ride home? Since I'm not intoxicated," He said, his voice verbally jabbing at her for the stolen beer, "I can offer you one in good conscience."

She laughed and nodded, looking up at him out of habit. His eyes were dark as he stared back down at her. _The way he looks at you…_

"What?" She asked, when he continued to say nothing. She fought the color rising to her cheeks but lost. For the first time, the silence that hung between them felt awkward. What was he thinking?

Her words seemed to shake him out of whatever trance he was in, and he shook his head, looking away. "Nothing. C'mon."

Andy frowned slightly, but followed him to his truck nonetheless. Silence fell between them as he pulled away from the curb, neither noticing Michelle Shaw standing in the window of her house, smiling as she watched them drive away.

* * *

The ride to her house was mostly silent, with only the occasional comment passing between them. It wasn't until the truck stopped that Andy turned to Sam, poised to speak. During the trip home, she'd mulled over what Michelle had said, and everything she'd felt for so long, but denied. It was true, she'd always thought Sam was attractive, but she was always saved from thinking more into it by the 'no rookie/TO relationships' rule. However… she'd graduated from 'rookie' status last month, so technically those rules no longer applied. Though they were still partnered together a vast majority of the time, and there were also rules against _that_. But who was she kidding, the rules were just excuses. Traci had broken the rules at the Academy, and look how that had turned out for her. Sometimes breaking the rules was a necessity.

Before she could say anything, Sam got out of the truck and made his way around to her door, opening it. She laughed at the gesture. "What a gentleman."

He half-grinned. "I try."

He walked with her to the door of her apartment building, and Andy prepared herself to speak once more. If she was going to say this, she needed to do it now.

"Sam…" Her voice must have reflected her seriousness, because he turned to look down at her, any trace of a smile gone. _The way he looks at you…_ She dipped her head to study the ground, avoiding the intensity of his gaze. "I, uh, I never actually thanked you for… well, for everything. You, uh, you helped me so much and I know it wasn't your responsibility and I just wanted you to know that I'm really grateful for everything. I, uh, I don't know where I would be right now if it weren't for you. So… Thank you," She finished, finally glancing up at him. He looked surprised, to say the least.

"Andy… You don't have to thank me. It's what friends do."

"Friends?" She asked, unable to stop the word from escaping. Before she could stop herself, she found a string of courage. "Is that what we are?"

He looked down at her in surprise. "Do you not want to be friends?"

"Sam… I… I don't know what I want," She replied, her courage deserting her. If she took this next step, there would be no going back. She stepped away from him, looking again at the ground.

He caught her hand to prevent her from going too far, though. "Then how about I tell you what_ I_ want?" He asked, and waited for her to nod before tugging her hand to pull her closer, using his other hand to tilt her chin up. He leaned in slowly. Stopping halfway in, waiting for her. Andy felt her teeth sink into the flesh of her lip, debating what she should do. This would change everything. His eyes bored into hers, the intensity intimidating her. _The way he looks at you…_

She made her decision in a split second, drawing towards him as though he were magnetic. Their lips brushed softly together, before she leaned in the last bit, pressing firmly against him. He returned the pressure, and she smiled against his lips. She didn't doubt it anymore. _This _was what she wanted, and it was what he wanted, too. She wound her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, and his arms wrapped around her waist. They stayed that way for an immeasurable amount of time, but Andy didn't care.

When she finally pulled away, she was grinning, and thankfully, she didn't feel guilty about it in the least.

* * *

Two weeks later, Andy stood on freshly mowed grass, looking down at the marble headstone. It was four months to the day that Oliver Shaw had died right in front of her. Four months to the day that her life had been sent into a downhill spiral that somehow ended with her in a better place than when it had started. It had been the most confusing time of her life, and yet she had come out of it with a clear head. She knew what she wanted now, and she wasn't going to waste any time. If Oliver Shaw's death had taught her anything, it was that there wasn't enough time.

"Hey. Thought I might find you here," A soft voice interrupted her thoughts, and she turned to see Sam standing a couple of steps behind her. She smiled softly at him, returning his greeting as he stepped up beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist. She leaned into him, sighing with a cross between happiness and sorrow. They stood for a long while in silence, each lost in their own thoughts as they stared at the grave before them.

_Oliver Shaw_

_1970-2010_

_Dedicated Police Officer,_

_Loving Father,_

_Devoted Husband._

_You will be missed._

"You ready to go?" He finally asked, just as quietly as before. Drawing in a shaky breath, Andy nodded, stepping forward to lay the flowers in her hand on top of the grave. The gesture had always baffled her, but she did it anyways.

She laid her hand on the cool marble for a split-second before rising and answering out loud, "Yeah, I'm ready."

Together, they turned, heading back through the cemetery to Sam's truck. The drive back to Andy's apartment was silent, but not uncomfortably so. Sam's hand rested on the console between them, and, without thinking, Andy reached over and took it in hers, their fingers intertwining on their own. She smiled to herself, liking that she could do that. Four months ago, being able to do that would have scared the living hell out of her.

They reached her apartment building much too quickly, and Sam got out of the truck to walk her to her door. Every time he did it, her heart beat a little faster, but she always teased him mercilessly about his old-fashioned habit. He stopped halfway up the walk, and when she turned back, confused, he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. She responded immediately to their pressure, welcoming the fire that spread through her limbs as he wrapped his arms around her waist. In the two weeks since he'd kissed her that first time, they'd kissed a few more times, but it was hardly ever this intense. They were together by unspoken agreement, and she liked that she didn't have to give voice to what exactly they were. They just were, and they both just knew. Finally, they pulled away for air, and she ducked her head to hide the blush colouring her cheeks.

"You know," she said, smiling and fiddling with the edge of Sam's coat with one hand as he loosened his hold on her waist, yet keeping his arms around her waist, "I technically owe you a beer…"

He laughed, "Damn straight you do."

She smiled back, finally looking up at him, sliding her arms down from around his neck and reaching behind her to take one of his hands in hers. She stepped back and pulled his hand towards the apartment building, but stopped short as he tugged her back in one smooth motion to drop a soft kiss on her lips before gesturing for her to lead on. She grinned to herself, biting her lip to contain what could have possibly been a squeal of excitement. God, she was _such_ a girl. As she led Sam up the steps, she caught their reflection in the glass. They looked… normal. It was almost as if the past four months had never happened, and yet if they hadn't, Andy had a feeling they wouldn't be standing here now. It was weird to think that death was what had finally brought them together.

She shook herself as she opened the glass door. She had had enough of those kinds of thoughts. She wasn't going to dwell on what had brought them together, and she certainly wasn't going to wonder 'what if'. No, she was the happiest she'd probably ever been, despite the occasional nightmare and flash of sadness, and she was going to savour it.

Smiling to herself, she unlocked the door with her key, heading for the stairs. As they headed up, they passed another tenant on the stairs.

Andy grinned as the woman's eyes flashed in recognition at the sight of Sam.

"Hey, Gina!" They said in unison, laughing at the dumbfounded look on the blonde's face as they continued up the stairs, hand in hand.

* * *

**A/N: Annnnnnnnd Finished! I must say, this is the longest one-shot, 5-chapter, 10-chapter story I've ever written! Haha. I'd like to thank you guys for sticking with me through this story. I know it's been a long journey and it has taken forever, so you guys are such troopers! Your reviews have meant the world to me. This story has helped me grow tremendously as a writer, and I hope it's lived up to your expectations! Out of everything I've written for this site, my **_**Rookie Blue**_** stuff is what I'm the most proud of. So, for the final time, I would love it if you could review for me!**


End file.
